


Humming Those Stupid Indie Songs

by TGIsterek



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Amnesiac Stiles, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bitch!Lydia(I'm sorry), Christmas, F/M, First Dates, First Kiss, Hurt Derek, Hurt Stiles, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, More angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-24
Updated: 2013-12-24
Packaged: 2018-01-05 20:22:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 29,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1098224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TGIsterek/pseuds/TGIsterek
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Derek discovers Stiles is suffering from amnesia, he must do everything in his power to make Stiles remember him, especially when Stiles begins to fall in love with Lydia all over again...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Humming Those Stupid Indie Songs

**Author's Note:**

> It's terrible. I'm sorry.

**Humming Those Stupid Indie Songs**

''I really don't want to have this conversation anymore, Stiles,'' Derek tries as he stepped through the woods, twigs snapping under his feet. ''Can you please just drop it, yeah?''

''No, I won't drop it!'' he shouts, his voice echoing through the vast open space around them, causing Derek's ears to ring. ''How can you expect me to drop it when my boyfriend-''

''Stiles, please!'' he interrupts him,  _begs_  him. ''Let's just find your phone and get out of here, I have a bad feeling about this,'' he says, scanning the trees around them, looking concerned. ''When did you last have it?''

''When we were-'' He sighs. ''When we were fooling around last night,'' he mutters. Talking about sex in the middle of a fight wasn't a very good way of making Derek take him seriously.

''Which was,'' he spins around enthusiastically, ''that way,'' he points, to the left of Stiles.

''What's happening to you? Why did you do it?'' Stiles asks, not in the least bit concerned for his phone which has been lying out here all night. Derek deflates, his arms dropping to his sides.

''I don't know,'' he whimpers, staring at the ground. ''I don't know,'' he repeats, this time looking Stiles in the eye. ''But, Stiles, you know I didn't mean-'' he moves forward, and stops immediately when he sees Stiles take two steps back.

Derek feels his heart stop beating, and his body stiffens as his knees go weak. ''What are you-'' he moves forward again, and stops when Stiles takes another step away from him, keeping his distance. ''Are you- Are you walking away from me when I get close to you?'' His voice is practically a pained, tight, whisper.

Stiles says nothing, and he swallows past a lump in his throat with watery eyes. ''Stiles, are you afraid of me? Of  _me_?'' he asks, feeling his chest constricting. Stiles remains silent, and Derek can practically  _feel_  the other man's heartbeat racing against his ribs.

''It was an accident. I don't know what happened. I don't know what came over me.''

''It  _hurts_ , Derek. Every time I move it hurts.'' Derek isn't sure if he means physically or mentally. Possibly  _both._  ''And every time it reminds me of what you did. I thought I could trust you. I thought you'd be the one to never hurt me again.''

''Maybe it's the full moon tonight, I don't know. I thought we were okay, you were just talking to me in the car,'' he says, a feeling of panic washing over his every word.

''I wanted to come alone.'' His tone is empty and dark, like he's dead inside. ''You wouldn't take no for an answer and I didn't wanna up-'' tears start flowing down his face, and he sobs loudly, trying to catch his breath.

''In case I got upset and did it again?!'' Derek shouts, exasperated at the sudden revelation that his boyfriend doesn't trust him anymore. His inner wolf is trying to get the better of him, it must be the full moon tonight. His anchor isn't exactly helping with the situation as he is desperately trying to stop his claws from growing.

''I'm sorry!'' Stiles apologizes hysterically, nearly falling over himself as he takes a quickly paced step back, as if Derek was about to pounce on him. Derek deflates once again, frowning sadly at the mess of a man in front of him. Tears cloud his vision as he watches Stiles fall against a tree crying.

''Stiles, come on. You know me, you know that I wasn't myself earlier. It's not who I am.'' Stiles sobs over a hitched breath, wiping his eyes in his sleeve, revealing a spot of blood on his jumper as he lifts his arm away from his side. Derek turns around at the sight of it. ''Your bleeding.''

''Of course I'm bleeding,'' he sobs. ''It hasn't stopped all day.'' Derek groans, kicking a tree and sending it to the ground on it's side. Stiles stills in his movements.

''I don't know why- I don't know why I did what I did,'' he turns, facing a still Stiles. ''But,'' he continues, ''I  _am_  sorry. I know it doesn't excuse it, or make the feeling or the memory go away, or even make you feel better. But I want- I  _need_ you to know, that I didn't mean to do it. I love you.''

Stiles remains silent for a moment, as if deciding what to say next.

''You're right,'' he says, ''It doesn't excuse what you did, and no, it doesn't make the feeling of it go away, or the memory of it. It doesn't make anything go away. The only thing that can make me feel any better right now, is space.''

''Space?,'' Derek perks up, raising his eyebrows inquisitively.

''Space. I think we should take a break.'' Derek's heart starts pounding ferociously, and Stiles is no werewolf but Derek is certain even  _he_  can hear it.

''A break from where, from what?'' Derek's world comes crashing down around him at his next words.

''A break from us,'' he sobs. Derek stands up straight, feeling a little light-headed, a little dizzy.

''Why?'' he croaks, his voice high-pitched because of the lump resting there. ''Why?'' he repeats himself, quieter, clearer this time.

''Because I don't know if I can trust you anymore. I don't know if I can trust you ever again,'' he cries, a tear rolling down his cheek.

''How long is a break?'' he asks a few moments later, dreading the answer but needing to know. He needs the reassurance that this isn't a long-term thing, that this isn't forever, that this isn't  _it_.

''I don't know,'' Stiles answer honestly. ''It could be a week. It could be a month.''

''A  _month_?'' Derek repeats.

''It could be forever,'' Stiles mutters mindlessly, hollowly, like there was nothing left inside him but self-hatred and pain.

''Come on Stiles, I know you, and you know me. You're the most loving, forgiving, smartest person I've ever met, who can you just throw everything we have away like this, over some silly-''

''Don't finish that sentence,'' Stiles warns. ''Don't you  _ever_ label this as  _silly_  or maybe this break will last longer than expected.''

''Longer than expected? How much longer than  _forever_  can you expect me to wait, Stiles?'' he snaps, feeling himself grow more and more frustrated at himself every second, the only problem was that Stiles was getting the brunt of it.

''If you love me like you say you love me, you'll give me as long as it takes,'' he says.

''As long as it takes to what?'' Derek asks quietly.

''To look at you again the way I used to look at you.'' Derek literally gets winded by his words, and he leans over, trying to catch a breath. ''I'm gonna go,'' he says a moment later, ''and go find my phone. You can leave without me. I'll be over later on to collect some stuff from the loft. I'll probably go stay with Scott and Allison, or my Dad.''

''Wait!'' Derek calls when Stiles begins walking away from him. Stiles turns, his face stained with tears, much like Derek's. ''Don't leave me,'' he whimpers. Stiles stares at him with an unchanging expression, before leaving.

Derek drops to his knees, staring at the ground. The whole world seemed to stop moving around him. Time freezes as his his ears begin ringing. The crisp December leaves blow in the cold breeze that hits him like a wrecking ball. He looks around him, and Stiles is nowhere in sight, but he can still hear his heart beat in the distance somewhere.

Stiles told him to stay away, that he can make his own way home. If he thinks Derek's going to let him walk around in these woods alone then he's got another thing coming. Alone in a forest potentially full of werewolves, and alphas, and giant walking snakes? Absolutely not. He should have found his phone by now. Derek speed dials number two on his phone, and it calls.

He can hear it along with Stiles'  _slow_ ,  _faint_  heartbeat. Derek looks up, and stills, realization smacking him hard in the face. He leaps up off his knees, and finds himself running towards the sound of that horrendous indie band Stiles never stops listening to, he has a horrible taste in music.

He jumps over tree roots poking out of the ground, running, narrowly avoiding trees and branches and anything else that gets in his fucking way. The song gets louder the more he runs, but there's still no sign of Stiles anywhere. His heartbeat is still echoing lightly in Derek's ears.

He comes to the phone, which is still lying on the ground. He stares down at the caller ID: a picture of Derek wrapped in Stiles' arms, smiling as they lie in bed together. They were happy back then. ''Stiles?!'' he calls, spinning around, scanning the area. ''Stiles!'' he calls again, panic in his tone.

A faint beating noise is billowing from behind him. He turns to see a sloping hill , and his heart stops beating in his chest when he sees Stiles lying motionlessly at the bottom it, blood dripping from an open gash on the back of his head. Blood runs down his neck, pooling in the collar of his shirt. Blood trickles down his face, across his cheeks, his mouth, his nose, his chin. It drips off on the brown leaves collecting on the ground below him, turning them into a dark red.

Derek can't breathe.

::: :::

He regains consciousness, hearing muffled voices around him. There's two people,maybe three, he isn't sure. They're having what sounds like a heated argument, before one voice fades followed by a loud bang. The other voice keeps talking, but he still can't understand a word they're saying over the intense ringing in his ears.

There's no other voice talking in the room, they must be talking to  _him_. A hand touches his, and his stiff fingers are peeled away from his palm, before being separated by fingers interlocking with his own. The sudden movement makes his hand and wrist ache, his whole body is aching, especially his head.

He's lying down, on something soft, like a mattress. He's in bed somewhere, with a thin blanket spread over him. He feels a slight chill running over his body. There's a beeping noise every second or so, keeping to the same rhythm, never changing. The voice is still talking to him. His mouth is stale and groggy, and he doesn't like the feel and taste against his tongue.

The ringing in his ears has stopped, and he can make out the voice a little more clearly. He still can't understand them, or even recognize the voice. It's soft, yet husky, and almost pleading. He thinks it's a man. This whole place smells like disinfectant, it's too sterile for his liking, too clean. It smells like old people. His eyelids flicker, and light floods in through the gap in his eyelids, and the lights' intensity makes him squint and squirm, and he groans low in his throat.

The voice stops talking, and the person squeezes his hand tight enough to stop the blood flow. He feels hands on his face, smoothing his cheeks, and the voice is calling someone, over and over, but he can't make out the word the man keeps saying.

He opens his eyes, and everything is blurred. Things are clearer, but still extremely bright, and it's giving him a head ache. He sees a figure in front of him, and his eyelids flop down, unable to hold themselves up any longer. It's definitely a man, but his face was unclear and one he didn't recognize.

He opens his eyes once more, squinting as he looks around the room, his vision still fuzzy. He's definitely in a bed, and he's- he's in something that looks like a hospital. He's in a hospital. The voice is clear now, and he can make out some of the features of his face. ''Stiles, can you hear me?'' he asks. ''Stiles? It's me,'' he says, as if that's supposed to mean something. A name would be nice. ''It's Derek-''

The man is interrupted by the door opening, and an older looking man enters, but it's hard to tell from this distance. He stops in his movements, and he drops something, and Stiles hears it clatter as it hits the floor before he's suddenly running out of the room again calling for a nurse. That must be the other guy Derek was arguing with earlier. ''Stiles'', he whispers, a relieved tone to his voice. ''I'm sorry,'' he mutters, squeezing his hand yet again. ''I'm sorry.''

A group of people rush in the door, crowding around the bed and pulling Derek away from him. He resists at first, before being shouted at by the other man and he calms down. He mouths something to him before being shoved out the door that ends up being slammed in his face. As the doctors and nurses crowd around him, his eyes close, and he drifts away again.

::: :::

He wakes up again four hours later, Derek still sitting in the armchair next to his bed. He opens his eyes, and sees Derek hunched over in the armchair, resting his head on a clenched fist. His eyes are glued to the floor, and he looks sad, lost almost. He says nothing to the other man at first, just staring at him.

He looks as if he hasn't slept in a week, if his frazzled hair and dark rings around his strained, bloodshot eyes were anything to go by. He also looks like he hasn't seen a mirror in  _two_  weeks. A good shave is what he needs. He just isn't workin' the puffy beard. Stubble would do him just fine, though.

He's absolutely exhausted by the looks of it. This guy must be dedicated to his job, fuck, just look at him. He wonders if he treats everyone like this. He needs a fucking shower, too. This place is supposed to be sanitary, but hey, it's beats that awful smell of death and cleanliness. His face is showing a look of distress, with a huge pouty frown.

He looks angry at the world, and he sighs at the ground. He has a nice face, though. Those god damn eyebrows, Stiles can't seem to not look at them, and his arms are practically busting through his t-shirt.

He sits up, rubs his eyes, pulls up his right sleeve and stares at his watch, his brows furrowed. He clucks his tongue and glances up at Stiles like it's the most normal thing in the world that he's awake, before double-taking.

''Hey,'' Stiles croaks, sitting up in the bed trying to get comfortable. He winces from all of the sudden movement, and his neck cracks as he turns back to look at the man next to him. His facial expression changes so fast, that if Stiles had blinked he would have missed it.

His eyebrows rise, and his lips contort into an 'O' shape, before immediately forming a smile, a dopey-ass smile that shows he's hiding some dopey-ass but adorable bunny teeth. He sits forward, shifting his chair closer to the bed, and the legs screech against the floor under it's weight.

He leans forward, and smiles a soft ''Hey'' in Stiles direction as he wraps his hand around Stiles'. Stiles looks at him awkwardly at the contact, confused but allowing it at the same time. ''Morning'', he greets, with a strained, hoarse voice, still smiling contently, letting out a relieved sigh.

Stiles smiles at him, the other man's happiness rubbing off on him. He's not sure if he's supposed to be happy, he's not sure of anything.

''I didn't know if you were gonna make it, if you were gonna wake up. You hit your head pretty hard,'' he says soothingly, rubbing Stiles' hand- which, okay, this is weird. Why is he rubbing his hand?

''Yeah, I figured,'' he smiled awkwardly, rubbing the back of his head, which had been recently patched up with a fresh bandage. ''What happened to me?'' he asks, not sure if he even wants to know. There's a million different possibilities, a million different scenarios that work in his favor, and millions that don't.

What if he was in a car crash? Were there other people involved? Were they dead? Is it his fault? Did he kill somebody? What if he was attacked? Mugged, hit around the head with a baseball bat, left for dead? What if it was something stupid, like, he tripped on a banana skin or some shit? That would be embarrassing-

''You fell down a hill, hit your head on a rock,'' he winces, looking pained by the thought, by the memory, maybe.

''When?'' he asks, having no recollection of the accident at all.

''About three weeks ago, give or take,'' he says almost too casually. He's not sure how to feel right now.

''Three weeks?'' he chokes with a gasp, eyebrows raised and voice a little high-pitched from the shock.

''Yeah, we were all worried about you. Your test result couldn't tell us anything that we didn't already know. We didn't know when you were gonna wake up, or if you ever would. It was just a waiting game, really.''

''We?'' he cocks his head to the side.

''Your Dad, Scott, Allison, the doctors, the nurses. Lydia even. She's gonna be back from London in a few weeks. She's been worried sick, you know. Her  _and_  Jackson. At least now she can rest easy knowing you're okay. We all can.''

''Where is everybody?'' Derek looks down at his watch again, pulling up his sleeve to get a proper view.

''It's a quarter past eight, so everyone's still in bed. Your Dad is down stairs in the cafeteria getting some breakfast. I thought I should stay in case you woke up.''

''Well, I'm awake,'' he smiles awkwardly, wondering why this man isn't calling his father and telling him he's awake, and is still holding his hand. They sit in silence for a moment, and it's beginning to get a little bit awkward. Stiles doesn't know what to say to him.

He doesn't how to ask him why his father isn't here without being rude to the guy, he doesn't want to be rude to the guy that probably saved his life. ''Are you gonna be running some tests now or something?''

''Excuse me?'' he coughs, seemingly not following or having the slightest idea about what Stiles just asked.

''Are you going to be running some tests now, to make sure everything is okay, with-you know, the whole head injury thing?'' he points a finger at his head, waving it around for emphasis.

''Why would  _I_  be running some tests? You know who I am, right?'' he asks warily, his heart rate beginning to rise as his whole body begins to tense up.

''Of course I know who you are,'' he smiles casually, and Derek relaxes. ''You're my doctor, right?''

''No,'' he says slowly, elongating the word, his voice shaking. ''I'm your boyfriend.''

''Boyfriend?'' he repeats in shock. ''What the  _hell_  are you talking about?'' he yanks his hand away from Derek's touch, out of reach. His shoulder aches with the movement.

''We're together,'' he points at the both of them. ''We have been for over three years now.'' Stiles stares at him, considering everything that he had just heard.

''I have no idea  _what_  you are talking about, or  _who_ you are, you've got the wrong guy, buddy.'' Derek stands up, his heart about to explode out of his chest.

''Stiles, if this is one of your stupid jokes you better tell me, alright! This isn't funny!'' he points a shaky, accusatory finger at Stiles, breathing heavily, his stomach turning.

''Who the hell are you? And who the hell is  _Stiles_?! Security!'' he calls, and Derek shushes him.

''You are. Your name is  _Stiles Stilinski_ -''

''My name is  _Stiles Stilinski_? God, my Mom and Dad must hate me!'' he exclaims.

''Stiles is your nickname, your real name is- you don't wanna know. And quite frankly I could have lived without knowing either. And no, your Dad doesn't hate you. Like I said, he's down stairs getting another coffee.''

''What about my Mom?'' Derek sits down, reaching for Stiles hand, something he didn't grant Derek permission to do, pulling it out of Derek's reach. Derek sighs, hating the fact that he has to deliver the news.

''No, Stiles, she doesn't hate you, she's dead-''

''My Mom is dead?'' he cries.

''Yeah, for like fourteen years, Stiles,'' he whispers softly.

''But-''

''Oh, my God, we're moving a bit off topic!'', he shouts, flailing his hands in the air, standing up off the chair again, with such force that it flies back against the wall with a thud. He leans against Stiles' bed, leaning down close to him. ''Do you know who I am?'' he asks calmly, trying not to lose his patience with the world. Stiles studies his face for a minute.

''You're Derek.''

''So you do know me?'' he brightens.

''Yeah, you said before, the last time I woke up, before the doctors came in.'' Derek deflates. ''And you're my boyfriend apparently,'' he says, casually.

''Technically, I guess. We had a fight before the accident- but that doesn't matter. Do you know who  _you_  are?''

''I'm Stiles Stilinski,'' he says carefully. ''God, that's a mouth full. That's gonna take some getting used to.''

''That's not what I meant. Apart from your name, do you know anything about yourself?'' Stiles thinks for a second.

''Yeah, I'm gay apparently.''

''No you're not, you're bisexual, actually. But do you know anything about yourself that you haven't heard from me?''

''No, I don't know anything.'' Derek can feel yesterday's dinner coming up his throat, and in about thirty seconds, he's about to see it. If he thought the hospital food tasted bad the first time around, he's in for a shock.

''I'll be back in a minute,'' he mutters, rushing out the door, ignoring Stiles' pleas for him to come back. He passes John in the hallway as he runs into the bathrooms, and John follows him in, just in time to see him throw his guts up into the toilet bowl.

''What happened?'' John asks sternly, full of panic as his shoulders tense, afraid to even know. Derek stares into the toilet, spitting out the remaining bile in the back of his throat. He turns his head slowly, looking John in the eye.

''He's awake,'' he coughs.

''Oh, thank God,'' he beams, turning and reaching out to grab the door handle, but stills upon hearing Derek's next words.

''He doesn't- he doesn't remember anything. Not me. Not you. Nothing,'' he pants. ''He remembers nothing,'' he flushes the toilet, ignoring his whiter-than-usual complexion in the mirror as he walks closer to a still John.

''What do you mean he remembers nothing? Surely he remembers his own father,'' he mutters, storming out of the bathroom and Derek follows, holding the Sheriff back with a firm grip on his arm.

''You're better off staying out here, if we overcrowd him he might get more confused-'' John turns and snatches his arm out of Derek's grip, scowling at him. Derek takes half of a step back, relenting.

''I'm going to see my son,'' he informs him, with a stern tone, as if to say  _end of_   _conversation_. Derek sighs, frustrated, it's not like he makes decisions for Stiles, especially when it comes to Mister Stilinski. He follows the sheriff, quickening his pace, and gets to Stiles' room first. He flings the doors to his private room open, not bothering to hold it open for John. _  
_

A confused Stiles blinks up at him from his bed, and Derek sighs. ''Stiles, there's-''

''Dad!'' Stiles cries with glee as John enters the room, and Derek flinches from the sound. He stills in the doorway, and glances at Derek briefly, before smiling warmly at his son as he approaches the bed.

''Hey, kid,'' he greets awkwardly, standing awkwardly, shifting his feet awkwardly, smiling awkwardly. ''Do you- uh, do you remember me? Do you know who I am?'' Stiles shows an unreadable expression, before beaming brightly at him.

''Of course I remember my own father!'' he smiles, opening his arms out, pulling John into a tight hug. John wraps his arms around him in an instant, not hesitating for even a second. He holds his son tightly, kissing him on the top of his head.

Derek's body clenches, and his breath hitches at the sight of this... mess taking place right before his very own eyes. How is this even possible? How can he not remember Derek but remember his father? This doesn't make any sense.

Stiles once told him that Derek was the most important person in his life, the person that he'll love unconditionally, always. The person he can always trust, always rely on. The person that completes him, is his other half, that makes him who he is. So how is it that he can't remember the person that makes him who he is,  _was_.

''I thought I'd lost you,'' he whispers into Stiles hair, fighting back the tears of relief pooling in his eyes, and he relaxes into Stiles' grip.

''Never,'' Stiles sighs into his father's chest. ''Never.''

Derek stands at the end of Stiles' bed, anger pooling deep inside him as John glares smugly at him as he holds Stiles in his arms. Derek glares back, through narrowed eyes as he tries to steady his heartbeat. Causing a werewolf scene in the middle of the hospital is not on his list of priorities right now, but Stiles is, and what Stiles needs right now is someone he can talk to, someone he can trust.

''I'm just gonna head down to the cafeteria,'' he mutters as he aims a thumb towards the door, lightly, quietly, like he's broken inside. Dead inside.

''There's no need,'' John starts, ''you go home and clean yourself up. I'll stay here with him.''

''I want to be here just in case,'' Derek informs him.

''In case...?'' John asks, confrontational all of a sudden. Derek is having absolutely none of it. What's with the sudden competition over Stiles?

''In case he remembers anything more,'' Derek mutters through gritted teeth, glaring at him, digging his nails into his thigh, watching Stiles with a confused expression on his face at his father's sudden change of attitude.

''I'll call you if anything happens,'' John tries, casually, as if he's not trying to brush Derek off like he means nothing to Stiles. He probably doesn't, at this moment, but he did once.

''I'm right here,'' Stiles announces, trying to ease the tension, which obviously wasn't working so much for John, who tightens his grip on Stiles' shoulder. The ends of Derek's lip turn up slightly as he eases, staring at Stiles fondly. At least he hasn't lost his sense of terrible humor.

''Like I said, I'll be in the cafeteria,'' he says as he leaves, huffing and sulking as he slams the door, stomping down the corridor as he takes out his phone, fingers nearly plowing through the screen as he sends Scott a text. This is going to be fun, he thinks, in his usual sarcastic inner voice.

::: :::

Derek finds himself approaching Stiles' room forty five minutes later, thinking it's enough time for them to get re-acquainted with each other. He was getting bored down there anyway. He's not one for sitting down and relaxing, especially when Stiles isn't there to relax with him.

He's missing those days already, when Stiles would come home from work and flop down on the couch next to Derek, who would wrap an arm around him easily, holding him close. They'd kiss each other 'Hello' and talk about their day as Derek completely abandons his history show to pay attention to Stiles.

He likes the sound of Stiles' voice, it soothes him, calms him down. They'd usually lie there for at least an hour in each other's company, before Stiles declares his hatred for cooking dinner, and Derek would agree, not wanting to get up and disrupt their moment.

Finding the phone and calling the Chinese place is even a struggle at that stage of the day, especially when they have to  _get up and answer the door when the food arrives_. Sometimes they wish they could just leave a key out for the guy, he knows the drill by now, they should do that next time-. Next time, if there is a next time.

He's unsettled, sitting here in the cafeteria, the place is so morbid and deathly. Everybody around him stares down at their plates and cups like over-tired zombies, with sad eyes and sad faces and dried tears and frazzled hair and- oh, God that's what Derek must look like. He doesn't think he's even seen a mirror in the past three weeks. He's too tired to even care.

The coffee he's drinking is weak, and it won't keep him awake any longer than he would last without coffee. It wasn't worth the time he spent in the queue for it. The woman behind the counter must have the same idea about the atmosphere of the place, and tries a joke on Derek.

He glares at her, frustratedly, informing her that he just wants his coffee and no bull shit, and she deflates, busying herself behind the counter before handing him a coffee with a smile. He can't blame her for trying and admires her stick-to-itiveness, if it was him that worked here he'd have fucking killed himself by now, and as a werewolf that's a pretty daunting task, but it'd be worth it though, not having to look at these depressed as fuck people, forcing a smile at them.

He taps his table with his fingers the entire time, he's not good at handling his nerves when it comes to Stiles, he really cares about him, okay? And John isn't helping, he doesn't get the whole attitude problem he has all of a sudden. Stiles is awake, he's supposed to be happy. Unless he thinks-

Oh, my God he blames Derek for this. The whole thing. He promised John when they first got together that he was safe with Derek, that he'd protect him and never let him get hurt. He failed him, broke his promise, strained his trust. They need to talk. He needs to apologize for this.

He stays seated for about five minutes, thinking of what he's going to say to the man. He scratches off numerous things from a checklist in his head, discarding them, replacing them with other thoughts, before he realizes he's being stupid, of course John would understand, he's a cool dude. Ugh, he's spent way too much time with Stiles, if that's even possible.

He debates the possibilities of the matter the whole way back to Stiles' room, before he comes to the conclusion that he hasn't spent  _enough_  time with Stiles. He plans on fixing that, and fast, too. As he arrives outside the room John emerges through the doors, and stops Derek in his tracks, moving him back down the corridor, away from Stiles.

''Where are we going?'' Derek asks, confused. John stays quiet for a moment, continues walking.

''We're going to have a chat down here,'' he signals at two seats placed along the wall of the corridor.

''Good, because I have something I wanna say to you,'' he says, taking a seat. He looks up at the sheriff, who stands above him. ''Aren't you gonna sit?'' he asks, pointing at the perfectly good chair next to him.

''No,'' he sighs, ''No I'm not. I wanna tell you something.'' Derek swallows, nodding at him for him to continue. John stares at him for a moment.

''I don't want you here anymore,'' he says slowly. Derek's brow furrows, and he nods his head disapprovingly.

''Excuse me?'' He's sure he misheard that. He's tired, he's delusional, he's hearing and seeing things. It's normal.

''I don't want you anywhere near my son. Do you want me to repeat it again, or did you hear me that time?'' Derek isn't so sure this conversation isn't due to his lack of sleep anymore.

''I don't understand,'' Derek starts. ''What's changed?''

''I'm gonna paint a little picture for you,'' he gestures with his hands. ''I had a seventeen year old son, who, I thought was old enough to make his own choices. That was, until, he brought a werewolf home to my door, claiming that he was in a relationship with him.''

''Where are you going with this?'' he interrupts, his patience wearing thin.

''Let me finish. So, my son tells me, that, although his boyfriend is a werewolf, he was never gonna hurt him.'' Derek begins to make the connection in his head as to where this is going, and he makes a pained expression. ''You get me?'' he asks, smugly.

Derek sighs, a self-hating, disgruntled expression spreading across his face as he slumps back on the chair. ''Yeah, so the funny thing about this story is that I believed him, and even though I banned them from seeing each other until Stiles was eighteen, I soon realized that I was wrong about him. And then two weeks ago the doctor calls me into Stiles' room, and pulls his blanket down to his waist. Apparently Stiles was attacked by some sort of animal the day he fell, even though he was with you right before it happened.'' Derek looks him in the eye. ''Yeah, I figured it was you.''

''I'm sorry,'' he mutters, weakly, painfully.

''Sorry isn't gonna cut it with me,'' he snaps. ''I don't want you near my son, you're barred,'' he dismisses, walking away. Derek shoots to his feet, following.

''Yeah? Well, Stiles isn't seventeen anymore. He's a big boy now, okay, he's twenty one and he can make decisions for himself now,'' he shouts back. John stills, before turning back around to face him. ''You can't keep me away from him. You won't, and you know it, because I could crush you like an ant if I wanted to. There's nothing you can do that's gonna keep me away from him.''

''Is that so? How about I tell him what you did the day he hit his head? Let's see how far in the door you get when that happens.''

''Tell him, he's gonna find out eventually, once he looks down and sees it for himself. It's just a matter of time at this stage. And even if I couldn't hear your heartbeat I would still know you're lying.''

''I'll do whatever it takes to keep you away from him-''

''And how about I tell him about that time I dropped by unexpectedly and found you-''

''You don't have the guts.''

''John,'' he smiles, ''I've fought a pack of alphas, killed my own uncle twice, fought a Kanima, fought a Kitsune  _and_  fought a druid, and you don't think I have the guts to-''

''Fine,'' John mutters, before turning around and leaving a smiling Derek to bask in his glory. He thought victory would feel better than this, but Stiles is still lying in hospital, lost and confused. It doesn't fell like winning at all. His thoughts are interrupted by a hand gripping his shoulder.

''Hey,'' a soft voice greets from behind him. He turns and sees Scott resting a hand on his shoulder, and behind him Allison stood with a soothing smile that's more comforting than it should be. ''What's going on?''

''He's awake.''

::: :::

Derek spends the next week in the armchair next to Stiles' bed. John makes no such effort in hiding his distaste in Derek, but he ignores him, this isn't about John, or Derek, this is about Stiles, and he's at least making an effort to get along with him.

Stiles convinces him to leave the day he wakes up, telling him he looks like a yeti with his puffy beard and needs to go home and shave, and make himself look like the guy in Stiles' photos of him. He smells awful, too, apparently, and is in dire need of a breath mint.

He reluctantly leaves, and tells Scott to ring him if anything happens. At all. He eyes John as he leaves, and he glares back. Stiles huffs, wondering what the deal is between them, and John plays it off, allegedly not knowing what he's talking about.

Derek returns three hours later, looking slick and sexy, but best of all, clean. He's had a good shave, and he's even got his hair cut. It looks nice, it's not much different than before, but it suits him all the same. He smells good now. He smells like he's discovered mouthwash for the first time in his life.

He smells better, too, his deodorant smells good, but then again any deodorant is better than the smell of stale sweat. He's changed his clothes, he's finally out of that leather jacket and those jeans, and now he's covered himself with loosely hanging tracksuit bottoms and a t-shirt that clings to his muscles.

When he comes back it's just Scott that's there, and they seem to be getting along fine as they laugh loudly as Derek walks in. Scott leaves shortly after, fist bumping his best friend before patting Derek's chest and then he's gone.

''Well don't you look better?'' Derek hums in agreement, sitting in the armchair next to Stiles' bed. ''You look like the Derek I know again. Or don't know, I guess,'' he laughs awkwardly. Derek smiles sadly at him. ''Stop with the sad eyes, it'll come back to me, you know.''

''Sorry, it's just, I miss you.'' Stiles laughs, but isn't laughing at him, but laughing at the absurdity.

''I'm right here, it's still me.''

''But, you're not  _you_ ,'' he urges. Stiles looks mock shocked.

''It can't be that bad, I'm sure my personality is the same,'' he tries, and Derek nods disapprovingly.

''If you were you, you'd be inviting me into that bed right now so I could s-''

''Okay,'' he laughs awkwardly, holding his hands up in surrender. ''Spare me the details,'' he grins. Derek laughs quietly, feeling his stomach turn a little at the thought of this new Stiles, the one that doesn't want to jump him every second of the day.

A small part of him likes this new Stiles, it's like they're learning how to fall in love with each other all over again. Maybe they're talking a few large steps back, but it's exciting. They're well past the stage of awkward smiles and touches on their first dates, and the amazing kiss they shared in the woods the night of their first date.

Derek smiles at the memories, and his smile grows at the thought of another first date to come. He tells Stiles stories about their relationship, about how they became more than friends. He talks about the different places they went on dates, their first time doing romantic stuff.

Like the time they were walking home drunk from the bar, and they had about five beers too many, but Scott had pressured them into staying longer. They couldn't resist his drunken pouty face. It was adorable, shut up. They walked home together, well, stumbled, leaning against each other for balance.

They held hands in public for the first time, but they were far too drunk to be insecure about it, and they both just smiled at each other, falling against one another as they walked. Their once heated glances were now one of  _I fucking love you don't ever leave me_ , but there was still heat behind them, so much heat.

They had only been together like sixteen days, but there was something building between them for a long time before they got together. Everyone else knew there was something there before Stiles and Derek did. They had bets going. Scott won, he knows Stiles like the back of his hand.

They ended up drunkenly telling each other what they loved most about one another.

''Like what?'' Stiles asks from the hospital bed, smiling stupidly in his Batman pajamas. Derek shifts awkwardly in the armchair as his cheeks burn adorably red.

''You talked about my eyebrows a lot,'' he giggles fondly, almost uncharacteristically. Behind his scowls he secretly enjoys Stiles' rambles about how his eyebrows disappear. ''You used to say they-'' he laughs to himself, ''it doesn't matter.'' Stiles nods along, reveling in the stories, enjoying the company.

His smile fades, and Derek sits forward. ''What's wrong?'' Stiles looks at him inquisitively.

''What date is it?'' he asks. Derek sits back, relieved that that was all that was bothering him, Stiles gives him a heart attack sometimes.

''January sixth'' he states casually.

''What?! I missed Christmas?'' he cries. Derek smiles fondly at him. ''Oh, my God, you did not spend Christmas sitting in a hospital, did you?'' The look on Derek's apologetic face tells him all he needs to know. ''I'm really sorry.''

''Don't be, it's not your fault. And it wasn't just me, everyone was here, apart from Lydia, of course.'' Stiles sits back, sighs.

''Still, I missed Christmas.''

''All of your presents are at home under our tree, and so are mine. I thought we could open them together when you woke up. We still can, if you like.'' Stiles smiles at him.

''I'd like that,'' he grins, feeling warm inside. ''Where do we live?'' he ponders, curious.

''When you were eighteen you moved in with me. Into my apartment.''

''Is that why you and my dad don't like each other?'' Derek laughs at the ground, and looks up.

''No, he insisted you left. He said he was sick listening to the two of us in the next room. His  _earplugs_  couldn't even keep the sound of us out,'' he laughs. ''You're loud as fuck.'' Stiles blushes, and his cheeks redden as he looks away. ''And we don't hate each other.'' Stiles looks back at him, his expression more serious now. ''This has been hard on us, you know?'' Stiles nods, he gets it, he does. ''Hey, that reminds me,'' he shuffles through his pockets, patting around for something.

Stiles follows his hands, until he realizes that he is now staring at Derek's crotch, wondering what Derek's hands could do. He snaps out of it as Derek hands him a black device. ''Here, it's your phone. You lost it when you hit your head,'' Stiles takes it, nods a simple thank you.

He hits the 'on' button, and the screen lights up, revealing Stiles' wallpaper. He smiles at the picture, of Stiles taking a selfie in bed as Derek plants a kiss on his cheek. Stiles laughs, rests his face in his hands. Derek grins.

''What?''

''I don't remember my password,'' he laughs.

''0503,'' Derek mutters softly, and Stiles looks at his somber face. ''It's our anniversary. May third.'' He rubs his cheeks, and sighs. ''Sorry,'' he chokes. Stiles sits forward, rests a hand on Derek's and squeezes.

''Hey,'' he soothes. ''It'll come back to me, eventually. We just have to be patient.'' Derek nods into his hands, and Stiles pulls them away from his face, insisting on Derek to look him in the eye. ''I will remember,'' he says, and it feels final.

''Sorry, it's just- it's hard, you know? I don't know how to do this.''

''Do what?'' he urges.

''I don't know. I'm just tired, that's all. Sorry-''

''If you say sorry one more time I swear you'll be in a hospital bed next to me,'' he warns.

''That doesn't sound too bad, at least I'll have an excuse not to go home.''

''You don't have to go home if you don't want to. I wouldn't mind if you wanted to  _live_  in that chair until I can go home.''

''I  _do_  want to live here until you can go home,'' he smiles softly. Stiles smiles back, and takes his hand off Derek's. They sit in non-awkward silence for a few minutes after.

''If it makes you feel any better I still think you're hot.'' Derek laughs, and soon all tension is relieved between them. Derek tells him he thinks Stiles is hot, too. Derek does go home, but not until Stiles falls asleep at three in the morning. He goes home and has a shower, cooks something that he ends up not eating, and plants himself on his couch, and he wakes up five hours later.

His thoughts immediately settle on Stiles and he leaps up off the couch. He was supposed to go back two hours ago, he doesn't want Stiles to wake up alone and not have anyone there for him. He must be feeling lonely enough as it is. He takes out his phone, and sends him a text.

_'You awake?'_  He gets a reply within about thirty seconds.

_'Yeah, you?'_  He laughs, not even able to explain how relieved he is that the fact that Stiles hasn't lost his sense of humor.

' _Are you alone?'_  His heart lurches at Stiles' response.

_'Yes, apart from the hot doctor checking my blood pressure.'_  Derek tenses.

_'You could at least give me a chance before jumping other people :L I'm coming over.'_

_'Don't you dare! You need to get some sleep.'_

_'I don't want you to be alone in there.'_  He's not so sure Stiles going to go down without a fight.

_'I'm not alone, there's doctors and nurses in and out every two minutes. Seriously, I'm fine. Get some rest.'_  Somewhere deep down he thinks Stiles is right, especially when it's  _him_  that goes down without a fight.

_'You sure?'_

_'Yes I'm fine. I'm getting breakfast now anyway, I don't know why they keep calling these pieces of cardboard 'cereal'. Now sleep. Please. I'll talk to you later x.'_  Derek's heart flutters, and he feels like his lips are going to split from smiling so widely. He feels like a teenager.

_'See you later x.'_  Derek sleeps with a smile on his face, ends up sleeping most of the day away. He doesn't get to the hospital until half eight that evening, with a McDonald's bag in his hand. As he arrives he passes Scott and Allison, and they make small talk in the halls for a few moments, before Derek makes his way up to the room.

When he enters he sees Stiles lying in bed, grinning at his phone, and Derek can't help but smile. Stiles looks up at him. ''Oh, my God you did not brings me McDonald's!'' he chirps, sitting up, getting comfortable as Derek pulls a table up beside him.

''I figured you'd be getting tired of eating the cardboard they dish up here,'' he places the bag down and tears it open, taking out several Big Macs and several large portions of fries.

''You are actually the best!'' he cries as he devours his burger.

''And don't you forget it,'' he beams. Seeing Stiles this happy gives him butterflies, even if it just  _food_.

''I can't guarantee that,'' he laughs and Derek bites back a smile. They eat in silence, and Stiles shows how much he appreciates it with a belch at the end. Derek smiles fondly.

''So did we ever talk about getting married?'' Derek chokes on a chip, coughing as he sips from his coke.

''Where did that come from?'' he settles back in his chair.

''I dunno, I'm just curious, I guess,'' he shrugs, biting into another burger.

''Yeah,'' he says a moment later. ''We did. But we decided that it's too early for any of that shit.''

''Too early? I thought we were together for like three and a half years?''

''We were. But we realized that we had our whole lives to get married. And we weren't ones for making plans, either, we prefer to live in the moment. So we decided that one day we'd just do it, I guess.''

Stiles hums in approval, happy with that answer. By the sounds of it they were the romantic types, reserving smiles and actions just for each other, where no one else can see them. Just the two of them, in their own little world.

The doors swing open, and a doctor shuffles in, staring at a page strapped to a clipboard. ''Evening, gentlemen,'' he greets, looking up. ''Visiting hours are nearly over, just a heads up,'' he smiles before leaving. Derek smiles back at him.

''What?'' Stiles asks.

''Is that him?'' Derek smiles devilishly.

''Who?''

''Your hot doctor.'' Stiles blushes, and Derek grins as his face goes red. ''You're right. He is hot.'' Stiles smiles back at him, relaxes.

''He's not as hot as you.''

''Nonsense,'' Derek dismisses.

''No seriously, half the photos on this thing are you lying shirtless on what I think is our bed. You're hot, man.''

''You have bad taste,'' he mutters fondly.

''No, come on, take your shirt off. Show me those muscles!'' he beams, and now Derek's the one blushing. ''Seriously.'' Derek smiles, and stands, pulling his shirt up. ''There they are!'' he laughs as Derek sits down. ''You're fucking ripped, man. God, I need to start working out.''

''No,'' Derek says immediately. ''I like you the way you are,'' he says seriously. ''I  _love_  you the way you are.'' Stiles sinks into his bed, content and not giving a fuck.

''I like you, too,'' he lays back.

''What does that mean?''

''We'll have to wait and see,'' he teases, and they both smile in different directions.

''Does that mean the doctor has some competition on his hands?''

''Ha ha. Very funny, Funny Wolf,'' he mutters sarcastically. Derek stills.

''What did you just say?'' Stiles sits up.

''I called you Funny Wolf.'' Realization smacks him hard on the face. He was going to have to tell Stiles eventually. This is his moment. It's make or break for him. He may as well get it out of the way before his hopes get built too far up and Stiles ends up reacting badly to it.

''Do you know why you call me that?'' he swallows. Stiles shrugs, and Derek sighs. ''There's something I need to tell you.'' It takes a  _lot_  of explaining, and a long time to do it. He's pretty sure he's not even aloud in here this late. He reacts well to it, but doesn't believe him at first.

He gets angry at him, tells him to go home, and asks how he could lie to him like that, take advantage of his inability to remember anything. Derek explains himself in the only way he knew how, to prove it. He watches Stiles' eyes widen at the sight of Derek's fingernails growing longer and then shortening at will.

Stiles stutters over his words and Derek gives him a minute to take it all in. He explains everything, about Scott, and Lydia, and Jackson being a Kanima. He tells him about Allison and Peter, and the twins and Jennifer, and Deucalion and the Kitsune. Stiles smiles at the end of it, exclaiming about how he managed to bag a werewolf.

In typical Stiles fashion, he makes sarcastic comments and jokes about it.

''Does this mean I can call you Puppy?'' he grins.

''If it makes it easier for you, then yes. If it's just to be your usual smart ass self, then no.'' Stiles beams at him, then his smile fades.

''What else is there out there? Oh, my God is there zombies, because I would totally fucking rock a zombie apocalypse!''

''I don't doubt it,'' he smiles fondly. They talk about Scott being a werewolf, and Stiles tells him that the more time he spends with Scott, the more he remembers stuff, even if it is only faint in the back of his mind. It helps Derek rest easier that it's beginning to come back to him.

At half one Derek announces that he has to go, and he squeezes Stiles' shoulder as he says goodbye, and Stiles beams brightly at him. He leaves Stiles with his thoughts. He bagged a fucking  _werewolf_. A werewolf!

::: :::

Stiles is allowed to go home a week later, and with Derek and his father's help, he gets discharged with an enormous amount of fuss. The two men argue a lot, about who gets to make the decisions for him. Where he's going home to, what he's wearing, who's lifting him into the wheelchair.

He doesn't need a wheelchair.

Stiles shushes them, informs them that he's right there beside them and that he's a big boy who can make his own decisions, before telling them to get the fuck out before he changes his mind and stays. Derek winks at him as the both leave him to get changed.

Derek checks up on him, and considers it to be one up from John. Stiles calls him in, and when Derek enters he's shirtless, and it makes him a little hot under the collar. ''Do you need anything?'' he visibly swallows at Stiles, who holds out his tee shirt, gesturing for Derek to take it.

''I need you to help me put it on,'' he sighs, feeling more than a little helpless. Derek does as he's told, carefully doing it as to not hurt Stiles' sensitive cracked ribs. Derek hums, it's feels like he's playing a game of operation or something. ''What?''

''Nothing,'' Derek smiles. ''Just being appreciative. This time two months ago you'd be asking me to rip it off, because you would never have time to pull it over your head like a normal person. Everything had to be rushed with you. So impatient,'' he informs fondly.

''I can't be held responsible for my actions when there's a hot, naked werewolf lying on top of me,'' he grins. Derek pulls Stiles' tee shirt down his chest, and he's almost disappointed by it. He could definitely go for some naked Stiles right now. In fact, he could go for some naked Stiles at any time.

They emerge from the room to a sulking John, who forces a smile at them, and Derek's smug smile comes naturally to him, and he aims it directly at the sheriff. His smirk is wiped clean off his face when Stiles comes to his decision. John beams at Derek's shocked face as Stiles states that he wants to go home with his father.

Derek steers Stiles away from John, where they can talk without having to deal with his ever-intruding presence. They sit in two seats along the wall of a hallway near Stiles' room, they look familiar to Derek.

''I don't understand,'' Derek starts. ''I thought we were getting somewhere. I thought we were good. Are we not?'' he asks, sounding pathetic in his own opinion. Stiles tilts his head and 'N'awww's at him, placing a hand on Derek's shoulder.

''We are good,'' he assures him. ''At least, I think we are anyway.'' He smiles at Derek when he looks up at him, a pout plastered across his face.

''I think we're good, too.'' He doesn't make eye contact with Stiles, so Stiles grips his chin and pulls his face in his direction.

''You don't have to worry, this isn't anything against you. It's just that we've spent so much time together in the past week that I think my dad feels sidelined by it all, and I don't want that. And I don't want you to feel sidelined either, because you haven't been, and you won't be. I just think I need time on my own for a while to clear my head and get a fair idea of things. I don't know anything outside these walls and it's scary for me, you know?''

''I'm a wolf. I can protect you if needs be. But, if this is what makes you happy then this is what I want for you as well.''

''I know you can, and I don't doubt you can either, but I think if I feel a sense of home then things might start coming back to me. I remember small things about my father, like I recognized him the second I saw him, and I have a few memories of the two of us together. It's just that even though I feel like I've known you for five years, I've only really known you for a week. I trust you one hundred percent completely, but I feel like I need to be around someone I know, and I mean  _really_  know.''

''I understand,'' Derek says hollowly.

''Oh, don't be like that,'' Stiles smiles. ''We're still going to be spending a lot of time together, but I feel like moving in with you is a bit quick. You have to remember that this is old news to you, but it's completely new to me. I just don't want to rush into things.''

''If you think you're intruding-''

''I don't,'' Stiles smiles. ''I don't think I am, because I know you want me there, but, just give me time, yeah?'' Derek nods at him, feeling a little down all of a sudden. ''Hey, I'll be coming over later anyway, we have a fake Christmas to spend together. I invited Scott and Allison to come over for a while once we've opened our presents, is that all right?''

''That's perfect,'' he smiles. ''Is your dad coming?'' He dreads the answer.

''I didn't ask, I don't to make you feel uncomfortable in your own house. I know what you two are like. You'll both be running around trying to open my presents for me, fighting over who gets to pull my chair out from under the table. You's will only be short of trying to chew my own food for me, and even then  _that_  wouldn't surprise me.''

''We are not that bad,'' Derek refutes.

''Oh, yeah? How about I ask him to come over after work?'' Derek keeps his mouth closed, glaring at him fondly. ''Thought so,'' he smiles, pulling at Derek's hand and pulls him up to his feet with him. They approach John, who can't help but wonder why Derek is smirking at him smugly.

He shrugs Derek off,  _he's_ not the one Stiles is going home with. Although this probably means Derek will be spending a lot of time at the Stilinski house now. Damn it, he didn't think this through. He looks at Derek, who is still smiling brightly, showing off his stupid bunny teeth. Stiles looks like he's loving it.

::: :::

''You all settled in?'' Derek greets as he opens the door to the loft for Stiles to enter. Stiles smiles warmly at him, and Derek's stomach flips.

''Yeah, but I literally have no clothes or stuff, though,'' he enters, looking around, scanning the room for all it's worth. ''So this is where I live. It looks  _cozy._ '' Derek slaps him lightly on his arm.

''Shut up, you loved it,'' he grins, heading for the kitchen. Stiles continues to look around, smiling at the glowing tree in the center of the living room. There are a bunch of presents scattered around it. He squeals inwardly. He loves Christmas, it's his favorite time of the year, he loves the smell of the tree, the snow on the ground, the atmosphere in the air. He loves it all.

''Are you on antibiotics or can you have a beer?'' Derek calls from the kitchen.

''Nah, I can't drink, but that doesn't mean you can't!'' he calls back. Derek joins him on the floor next to the tree a minute later, and Stiles get butterflies at the sight of Derek holding two glasses of orange juice. Derek shuffles closer to him, and Stiles doesn't complain. He nudges his knee against Derek's, and Derek nudges his shoulder against Stiles'.

''You can drink if you want. Don't mind me,'' Stiles tells him, sipping at his drink.

''Oh, no, half of mine is vodka.'' Derek smiles, silently toasting and taking half the glass' contents in one swig.

''Seriously?''

''No,'' he swallows. ''If you're not drinking then I won't either.''

''Oh, my God, you are so sweet on me,'' he laughs.

''You loved it.''

''Yeah, I bet I did,'' he grins, wishing he could remember all the memories Derek could. He'll get them back, in time. He's sure of it. It's only a matter of time now.

''You said you don't have many clothes at home, do you want me to pack you a suitcase or something? Give you some of your stuff back?''

''Yeah, if you don't mind, that would be great,'' he says after necking the rest of his orange juice. Derek goes to stand up, and Stiles wraps his hand around his arm, yanking him back down to the floor. ''After presents,'' he mutters, moving closer to Derek, who also, doesn't complain about it.

Derek reaches forward, grabbing a small box wrapped in blue paper with a happy penguin pattern. ''This ones from Scott,'' he reads before looking up at Stiles. ''Who'd have figured?'' he smiles sarcastically.

They spend the next half an hour opening presents, smiling and laughing. It feels exactly Christmas should, the same buzz and excitement in the air that's been here for the past three years, since he started spending them in Stiles' company. It's nice. It's fun. It's easy. It's like how it used to be, like they've known each other their whole lives, that this is where they're supposed to be. Stiles stares at Derek, a pained expression on his face.

''What? Are you all right, is it your ribs?'' Derek reaches for him.

''No,'' he winces. ''I don't think I bought you present. And if I did I don't remember where I hid it.'' Derek relaxes, and smiles.

''You don't have to buy me anything. Like ever.'' Stiles rolls his eyes.

''Jeez, well at least I know who wears the pants in this relationship.'' Derek shifts closer.

''There's no pants in this relationship.'' Stiles laughs, and Derek's cheeks redden. ''I didn't mean it like that. And even if there was they would be four-legged pants.''

''Because you're a wolf?''

''Because we'd both be wearing them.'' They smile stupidly at each other.

''I still feel bad, though.''

''Don't,'' he nudges Stiles. ''You being here is the best Christmas present I could asks for.'' Stiles swallows, and stares at Derek's mouth. He leans forward, and Derek stills. He doesn't want Stiles to feel like he has to do this, but if Stiles wants to lean forward and kiss him, he can, but Derek will be of no influence.

Stiles gets closer, parting his lips as he moves in. He grips the back of Derek's neck, makes him move closer. Their hearts race against their ribs, this is finally happening. Derek moves forward to Stiles' grip, lips parted, ready to devour him for all he's got.

A knock on the front door startles Stiles and he turns away as Derek's lips press against his cheek. Derek sighs against him. ''We should probably get that,'' Stiles swallows, getting up off the floor and heading for the door. Derek stays where he is, and sulks as he hears Stiles greet Scott and Allison.

Wow. Just wow.

::: :::

Derek sulks for most of the evening, sending glances of  _I'm going to fucking murder you in your sleep_  to Scott from across the room. He sits on an arm chair opposite Stiles, and Scott and Allison share the sofa. They drink wine casually and laugh and joke about the 'good 'ol days'.

Derek sits, sipping his wine, scowling at the wall behind Stiles head. He adds nothing to the conversation, sending false smiles every so often, saying nothing but yes's and no's in a voice that's monotone to fuck. He watches the log burning away in the fireplace, silently wishing this place would burn to the ground.

He thinks Stiles get it. He draws attention away from Derek and his pout, and every time Derek huffs or sighs he brings out a smile on Stiles' face. He's already regretting letting Stiles invite them over to their house.  _His_  house. They're not fucking welcome when Derek is about to kiss Stiles for the first time in over a month, or when he's about to kiss Stiles  _at all_.

Instead of eating the usual Christmas dinner: turkey, ham and all that stuff, they eat turkey sandwiches. Made from processed sandwich meat. Allison and Scott know not to mouth off about it, judging by the look on his face he looks like he's in a fowl enough mood already. They'll be lucky to make it to tomorrow, never mind the wonderful trip they're planning to Hawaii, where they can _just relax and be with each other for a couple of weeks_. The cheek.

Stiles catches up with him in the kitchen later, and Stiles grabs him by his wrists. ''Are you okay?'' he asks, sounding genuinely concerned but with a hint of a smirk. He knows.

''Yeah, I'm fine, why wouldn't I be?'' he glares at the floor. Stiles chuckles, pulls on his wrists even further.

''Because you've been scowling at Scott all evening. Seriously, I think he's scared for his life.'' Derek snorts. ''And because you've been wringing the shit out of this tea towel for the last ten minutes,'' he laughs. Derek looks down, seeing both of his hands wrapped around a red towel that's close to being ripped in half down the middle.

He lets go, and discards it on the counter beside him. Stiles leans closer. ''Sorry,'' he mutters, still staring down at the ground.

''For what?'' Stiles urges, smiling because he doesn't know why he's sorry. Stiles isn't sorry, he's quite enjoyed seeing Scott scared, all of his memories of Scott are of him being all tough and werewolfy, seeing Scott being put in his place is a new look that he isn't used to yet. He's usually so calm.

''I'm ruining the whole evening,'' he says, still staring at the floor, before Stiles nudges his chin to make Derek look at him. Stiles smiles at him.

''You're not ruining the evening. Your just angry, and tired, and frustrated, and lonely-''

''Stiles'', he slaps him on the shoulder.

''Sorry,'' he laughs. ''But I get it, they ruined the moment on us, but there'll be plenty more to come I'm sure.'' Derek grins devilishly at him, smitten at this boy- no, man.

''Oh, yeah, like when?'' he tugs Stiles closer.

''Like right now, if you like.''

''I like.'' They smile at each other, and Stiles leans up to reach Derek's lips, and before they know it there's a knock on the door. Derek sighs, and rests his head on Stiles' shoulder as Stiles laughs frustratedly.

''Why doesn't the universe want us to be together?'' Derek holds onto him tight, his face still buried in Stiles' neck. ''Hey Scott can you answer that for us? We're kinda busy in here.'' Derek stands straight, his eyebrows raised. Derek leans down and his lips ghost over Stiles'. They both snap to Scott's voice behind them, and sigh. ''Jesus, what do you want now?'' Stiles snaps.

Scott smiles at him like a fool. ''You're gonna wanna see this, Stiles. Someone is here to see you'' he throws a thumb in the air, pointing at the living room. Stiles turns and looks at Derek, looking for confirmation, but he just shrugs, disappointed yet again. He follows Stiles down the hall and watches as Stiles stills in the doorway to the living room.

He doesn't move, and his facial expression doesn't change. Derek surges forward, standing behind Stiles and gripping onto his shirt tightly. Scott sits down next to Allison and John stands in the corner of the room, a smug smile plastered across his face. A woman is seated on their coffee table, before she notices Stiles and stands, straightening herself and brushing down her puffy purple blouse.

''Hey, Stiles,'' she smiles through bright pink lips, and she whips her long ginger hair around her shoulder, away from her pale white face. She blushes at him, looking shy, looking like she's under inspection. Derek can hear her heart racing against her rib cage. Stiles shows an readable expression, and she looks worried all of a sudden. She glances back at John, and Derek couldn't help the look on her face as she does.

Stiles' mouth curves into a grin, and then he laughs, running towards the girl. ''Lydia!'' he cries, moving out of Derek's grip. She smiles as she approaches him, and he pulls her into a hug, and he holds her tight like he never wants to let go. She blushes when he does eventually let go.

''I guess they told you all about me,'' she smiles timidly.

''No, I remember!'' he beams, looking at all the shocked faces gawking at him like he has ten heads. ''I remember you!'' he laughs, pulling her into another hug. As she looks over Stiles' shoulder Derek is gone, and the sound of plates coming crashing down on the floor fills the silence. Scott abandons the once happy moment, excuses himself before finding Derek in the kitchen.

He's quivering, and his hands are shaking and his eye is twitching. He's standing in the middle of the floor, surrounded by shards of plates and cutlery and glasses. His breath is hitched. ''What happened?'' Scott asks, already knowing the answer.

''I was just putting the dishes away,'' he says a moment later, his voice quiet, like a lost child. ''But they slipped out of my hands.'' Scott swallows, and closes the door behind him.

''You dropped four plates, eight glasses and a load of forks and knives, that you were holding in  _one_  hand?'' he questions.

''I have big hands'', he mutters, not making eye contact with Scott, who nods understandingly. He takes a step back towards the door.

''I'm gonna go back inside, this is huge moment for Stiles and I should be in there with him.  _We_ should be in there with him, for him. So give yourself a moment, and then leave the mess, we can clean it up later.''

Derek nods absent-mindedly. ''I'll see you in there,'' Scott adds before closing the door behind him. Derek stares at the sight below him, and looks at himself in the mirror, seeing the state he's in. He wipes his face, and takes a deep breath. He watches the clock until a minute is up, before he joins the others. He smiles and pats Stiles on the back, who is too busy paying attention to Lydia.

Scott gives him a knowing, sympathetic look, and Derek feels himself begin to panic.

Everybody surrounds Stiles, and Stiles stares wide-eyed at Lydia, his pupils practically forming the shape of hearts. If this was a cartoon, his heart would be beating two feet out of his chest. Derek stares at John, who smugly winks at him, and Derek bares his teeth and growls.

He follows John out of the room, and shoves him up against the wall. ''What the hell are you playing at?'' he barks in his face.

''Remember when I said I'd do anything in my power to keep my son away from you?'' Derek blinks at him. ''Yeah. I had an ace up my sleeve. Stiles has been in love with Lydia since he was in the third grade. You've got a helluva competition on your hands, son''

''Why are you doing this to me?'' he tightens his grip on John's collar. ''This isn't like you.''

''What, protecting my son?''

''I can protect your son,'' he informs, realizing how pathetic he sounds. ''I  _can._ ''

''By doing what you did to him? You're doing a damn fine job of it,'' he smirks sarcastically.

''You can trust me. You  _know_  me, you know it was unintentional. You know that I'd die before letting anything bad happen to Stiles. You know it.'' John eases a little. ''You know that if I had even a  _tiny_ inkling that if I was putting Stiles in any sort of danger then I would back off, that I would leave him alone. You just have to trust me.''

''I trust you, I do. But remember the night we were in the hospital, the first night, I think. You told me that Stiles had ended things, and when I asked you why, you said that he didn't feel like he could trust you anymore. Before I could ask why the nurse had interrupted us. The last thought Stiles had of you before the accident was not one in favor of you. He didn't trust you. And the only reason he trusts you now is because he doesn't remember what happened. Someone needs to remember for him, and until he can make an informed decision for himself, I need to be that someone. I do trust you, but Stiles didn't, and that's why I'm doing this. You know deep down I'm right.''

Derek releases him, and suddenly he understands. He understands. ''Then why did you drag Lydia into this?''

''Like I said before, he's been in love with her since the third grade. There's no way in Hell that he wouldn't recognize somebody that significant in his life. Maybe that's why he recognized me on sight, too. This isn't anything against you, I just want him to remember everything, and now we're one step closer to that.''

''Then why doesn't he remember me?'' John places a soft hand on Derek's shoulder. ''Why does he remember other people, and not me? He said that other than you, I was the most important person in his life.''

''Listen, kid. It's gonna come back to him, but you have to have patience, he needs time to heal himself, find out who he is again, and then, maybe then, he'll remember.'' Derek sighs, feels overcome with emotion, and nods at the sheriff as he returns to the kitchen to clean up. When the sheriff enters the living room, Scott passes him as he ushers Stiles out the door and into Derek's bedroom.

Stiles protests as Scott grips his arm, dragging him through the hall, but can't seem to escape his grip. Stupid werewolf powers. He sulks as Scott closes the bedroom door behind them. Stiles flops down on the bed, and bounces up and down on it. Scott watches him.

''Man, Derek has a really comfy bed,'' he bounces, smiling to himself.

''Yeah, you're the one that picked it. Stiles, this is  _your_  bed, this is where you belong, with Derek, not with your dad or Lydia.''

''I'm in love with Lydia,'' Stiles stops him. Scott stills, raises a finger at him.

''You love Derek,'' he points, and Stiles stands, confrontational all of a sudden.

''I barely even know Derek! Yeah, he's great, and he's attractive and he's a really nice guy. I have feelings for him but with Lydia- it's just, I'm in love with her. I'm completely, madly in love with her.''

''You used to be in love with her, but not anymore. That changed years ago. You told me once that Derek was your soul mate. You haven't loved her in a long time.''

''I loved her when we were in school-''

''What, you mean when she used to walk all over you?! Stiles, you used to be her foot rest, and the person who carried her back pack and books for when she didn't want to, you used to blow her nails dry and complement everything she done.''

''I'm sure I was the same with Derek.''

''No, you were in a  _healthy_  relationship with Derek. You were comfortable around each other, she used to be a bitch that ignored you until we were sophomores and messed with your head. You used to call Derek boo, and honey bunch and sweetheart just to be ironic. You and Derek used to call each other ass face, and douche, and any other insult under the sun-''

''Yeah, that sounds like a real  _healthy_  relationship.''

''Stiles, you know you're making a huge mistake here.''

''Look, I'll explain to Derek, okay?''

''What are you gonna say?! Huh? What are you gonna say, when you go up to him and tell him that you don't love him anymore, that you don't want to be with him anymore, that you're in love with somebody else and- how do you think he's gonna take it?'' Stiles stares at the floor beneath him and swallows. When he looks up he has tears in his eyes, and his lip is quivering.

''I doesn't matter. It's worse to lead him on as if something can happen one day, and maybe if things don't go right with Lydia something will happen. But for now, I want to be with Lydia, and nothing is gonna change my mind.''

He leaves Scott alone in the room, and slams the door behind him. He joins Lydia on the couch, and Derek rests on the armchair, watching on as his worst nightmare unfolds in front of him, and there's nothing he can do about it.

Stiles takes all of his stuff home with him that night, and leaves Derek with nothing except for one of his old tee shirts that Derek likes to sleep in sometimes. They don't speak for a week after tonight, and Derek's never felt more alone in the world.

::: :::

A storm hits California, and the weather reports have given torrential rain across the state, with risks off flooding in a number of places, including Beacon Hills. Derek has just been shopping, gathering supplies for the next few days, he doesn't plan on leaving his apartment much. He buys about eight liters of Ben and Jerry's to eat while he feels sorry for himself.

Shut up, he misses Stiles, okay?

He mopes around the house all day, listening to stupid indie songs that he hates but, hey, they remind him of Stiles. He ignores all phone calls from anybody, and saves himself the embarrassment of people knowing he's a mess wallowing in his own self-pity.

He wears Stiles' tee shirt a lot. It smells like him, and so does his pillow and that's why he sleeps on Stiles' side of the bed now. He cried. Four times already. He's so out of character right now, it's unbelievable. He didn't know Stiles was actually such a major part of him, well, he did, but he didn't know how to prepare himself if he ever left. He never thought Stiles would ever leave him.

He drives home alone, thinking about all the ice cream he's going to eat over the next three days. He's going to get fat. He hasn't worked out in six weeks. This feeling isn't new to him, he'll never be used to the feeling of loss, self-hatred, love, but it's still hard.

As he drives though the woods of Beacon Hills, he sees a person walking along the side of the road. It's lashing outside, there's thunder and lightning, who the fuck is crazy enough to be out in weather like this? The person is walking a very familiar walk, and wearing an even more familiar red hoodie, and then it hits him.  _Stiles_. He beeps his horn, and slows down beside him.

Stiles stops and looks back, flicks his hood down behind him, and squints as the rain hits his face. The car comes to a stop, and Derek lowers the window, and Stiles looks guilty when he sees him, but smiles anyway. ''Get in,'' Derek urges, opening the door for him to enter.

Stiles hesitates, before smiling cheekily again. ''I don't know, my mom always told me not to get into cars with strangers.''

'' _Ha ha,_ '' he pretends to laugh, sarcastically, before Stiles hops in. ''Your car is gonna get soaked,'' he shifts in his seat, trying to get comfortable before pulling his seat belt over him.

''I don't care,'' he says lightly, starts driving and Stiles shrugs. Fair enough. ''What are you doing out in the rain like that?''

''Oh, I was out at the store and I ended up getting caught in it on the way home.''

''I don't see any bags.'' he inspects. ''What'd you buy?'' Stiles reaches into his pocket and pulls out something long and red.

''Twizzler,'' he says casually as he gnaws into it. Derek laughs.

''You risked walking home alone in the middle of a storm for a  _twizzler_?'' He laughs, again, Stiles hasn't changed a bit. Stiles hums a yes as he shoves the entire thing in his mouth, and swallows it with great effort. He drinks it down with the water Derek offered him when he thought he was choking for a second. ''You wanna come back to mine?''

Stiles looks at him, considering him. ''For coffee,'' Derek starts again. '' _Just_  coffee,'' he laughs awkwardly. He stops himself before he starts talking about how they won't be having sex and just having coffee. Together, well, not  _together_  together. He spares himself the embarrassment.

''Smooth,'' he laughs, as if reading Derek's mind, and Derek winces before Stiles looks at him, considering him. ''Sure,'' Stiles agrees, and Derek releases a breath he hadn't realized he was holding.

''Here,'' Derek hands him a towel once they get back to the loft. He goes into their- his bedroom and fishes through the chest of drawers looking for a suitable tee shirt for Stiles to wear while his other one dries on the radiator. He takes the red v-neck one, Stiles always liked that, said it clung to him in all the right places.

Derek joins him in the kitchen and sits down,handing Stiles his coffee. He sips his own as he drops the tee shirt down on the table. Stiles mutters his thanks as he puts it on, and Derek is more than a little disappointed at losing the sight of Stiles' chest. He takes a deep breath.

''How are you?'' he puts his mug down on the table.

''I'm okay, I guess. Still readjusting, still unpacking,'' Derek hums into his mug, and an awkward silence fills the air. ''Sorry,'' Stiles mutters, and he catches Derek's attention. ''About this week,'' he clarifies, and Derek nods, hiding his heartbreak behind an unreadable expression, looking nonplussed about it.

''It's fine.''

''It's just that I've been figuring stuff out about myself this week. I found my iPod the other day, and I found out what music I like. God, I have shit taste.'' And Derek laughs and he agrees.

''You love it, though.'' Stiles smiles warmly at him.

''Yeah, I do. I just didn't want you think that I was leaving you hanging. I told you we'd still be spending time together and I didn't want you to think that I had abandoned the idea. It's just been a long week is all.'' Derek nods silently, drinking the last of his coffee. ''I missed you.''

''I missed you, too,'' he almost whispers, and his heart hurts, more than it already was, more than he's willing to admit, he thinks. ''It's been a long week.''

''I'm sorry,'' Stiles repeats. Derek gets up and moves away, putting his cup in the sink and washing it, scrubbing it hard, he needs a distraction from looking at Stiles.

''I get it,'' Derek chokes. ''You're with Lydia now, not me. You feel nothing for me. I'm nothing to you. I get it.'' Stiles stands and approaches him, turning Derek to face him.

''Derek, you'll never be nothing to me. And me and Lydia aren't even together, nothing happened between us yet.''

''Yet,'' he repeats, and he bows his head and walks away. Stiles grabs his shoulder, and stops him.

''Derek, I'm sorry, okay. I'm sorry.'' Derek doesn't move, doesn't speak, doesn't blink. He shivers under the touch.

''I don't want you to be sorry, be anything but sorry,'' he quivers.

''Then I don't know what I am.'' Derek turns to him and faces him again.

''You're supposed to be Stiles, the person you were, the person you are. You're supposed to be happy with me, and share a bed with me, and wake up next to me, and watch me while I sleep like the creep you always were.'' Derek's eyes go watery, and Stiles smiles slightly at the image of what Derek just said.

''You're supposed to come home to me every evening after work and tell me about your day, about how your co-worker Jimmy had riled you up at lunch time and you wanted to hit him in the face, and tell me to back off when I offer to do it for you, and more. You're supposed to bitch to me about my cooking skills when I hand you a plate of quick noodles and a slice of bread.'' Stiles continues to stare at him, looking fond.

''You're supposed to sit next to me on the couch and prop your legs over mine and get comfy. You're supposed to coax me to bed to have sex with you thinking that I didn't already have that idea in my head before you started. You're supposed to love me, but not as much as I love you because as I've said a thousand times, that's impossible.''

Derek leans forward and kisses him, and Stiles leans into it, surprised at first but kisses him anyway. Derek opens his mouth and parts Stiles' lips with his tongue as Stiles tilts his head back, sinking into it. Derek grips the back of Stiles' neck, pulls him closer, if possible. Stiles hums lightly, and Derek growls. They pull away after a few moments, breathless.

Derek looks into his eyes, and Stiles stares back, looking a little befuddled, like he remembers him, after all this time, all it took was one kiss to jog his memory.

''I'm sorry,'' Stiles mutters, and Derek's hopes are dashed and come crashing down around him. ''I shouldn't have let that happen.'' He grabs his hoodie and makes way for the door.

''Stiles, come back!'' Derek calls after him. ''I just want you to remember. I just want you to remember me!'' he shouts as Stiles closes the door. Derek gets phantom feelings of Stiles' lips against his for hours after.

::: :::

Derek stares blankly at his food, pushing it around his plate absently. He rests his chin on a clenched fist, a solemn look on his face. He sits in silence, other than the sound of his fork scraping against his plate, and the pitter patter of water droplets falling from his leaky sink. The tick of the clock echoes through his ears.

It shouldn't be like this, Stiles should be here, filling the silence with laughter and stupid jokes that Derek pretends to hate and forces a scowl at him. He'd be restless, the guy can't sit still for more than five minutes,and he'd be tapping his feet, and clucking his tongue and humming those stupid indie songs that Derek pretends to hate. He pretends to hate a lot of things.

His food is cold, and his coffee is weak, and also cold. It's cold outside, and his apartment is cold. Stiles is cold. Even when he tries so hard to believe that, he still knows it isn't true. He replays the events in his head, all of it, from the moment he found Stiles to the moment he kissed Stiles less than two hours ago.

He's not going to lie, he's been through harder times, with the fire and all, but this is almost just as bad. He never thought he'd feel this way about Stiles Stilinski, he never hated the guy, but he was just so fucking  _annoying_ when they met, with his  _sour wolf_  and his obnoxious wolf jokes and sarcasm and his annoying buzz cut hair that Derek never thought suited Stiles anyway.

He prefers him having hair that he can run his fingers through when they lie on the couch together on a lazy Sunday afternoon, or when they're in bed- yeah, mostly when they're in bed. He liked the guy, but he never thought he'd love the guy, he never thought he could love or trust someone again the way he trusts Stiles.

Stiles is the first person he's ever loved since Kate, since the fire, and Stiles doesn't even know it, he never knew it.

A knock on the door startles him, and he drops his fork in fright. He stills, considers not answering, before the door knocks again, and he comes to the realization that it might be Stiles, so he hops to his feet and answers the door.

He's royally disappointed when he opens the door to see Scott and Allison standing outside it. Scott smiles brightly when Derek sighs, but it's not because he's naive, or because he's mocking his sorry sight, it's because he knows, and he's trying to lighten Derek's mood a little. It doesn't work.

Allison greets him with a soft hello, and rubs his arm gently when she enters, and Scott nods and places a hand on Derek's shoulder, steering him inside. Derek lets Scott lead him into the kitchen, where Allison was already making coffee. Scott sat him down, and took the plate in front of him and put it on the counter.

They sat in knowing silence, exchanging glances met with half arsed smiles that meant nothing other than the fact that none of them were willing to bring up the subject of Stiles. ''So,'' Scott starts, but nobody acknowledges him or what he said. Allison hands him his coffee and they sit down on the other side of the table facing Derek.

''How are you?'' Allison starts herself, nudging the coffee towards Derek, who is staring at a spot on the wall behind them.

''Fine,'' he mutters hollowly. Scott and Allison exchange a glance that doesn't go unnoticed by Derek. ''What?'' he asks, frustrated.

''You're not fine,'' Scott tells him. His voice is soft and soothing, and it's not helping. ''You're not.''

''Where are you going with this?'' Scott sighs. ''Tell me.''

''Stiles.'' Allison cuts in.

''What about him?'' Derek sighs.

''You're not coping well.'' Her tone of voice is the same as Scott's and he doesn't appreciate being treated like a child.

''Like I said, I'm fine.'' he grunts. Scott stands up and moves across the kitchen to the freezer, and starts rummaging. Derek can see him picking up things from inside as Scott counts them silently in his head, but moves his lips as he thinks.

Scott returns with an armful of ice-cream. ''You have ten tubs of Ben and Jerry's ice-cream in your fridge. Compensating for something?'' Derek deflates, but tenses up again and opens his mouth.

''If you say you're fine one more time I'm going to personally stick an arrow down your throat,'' Allison interrupts.

''But I am.'' he protests. Scott puts the ice-cream back in the freezer.

''Whose tee shirt is that?'' Allison questions, pointing to the one Derek's wearing. Derek sighs again. ''It's Stiles', isn't it?''

''Why are you here?'' he asks as Scott rejoins them at the table. ''What, am I not allowed to keep the little amount of dignity I have left, or is that being from me, too?''

''That's not why we're here.'' they say in unison. Derek sits back, awaiting an explanation. Scott stares at a mark scratched into the table, and refuses to make eye contact with Derek.

''Stiles and Lydia are dating,'' he mumbles, almost inaudibly. Allison sees it, watches as Derek's heart breaks down the middle, into tiny fragments that Lydia is stepping on right now. He takes in a shaky breath.

''That's impossible,'' he argues, ''he was just here like two hours ago. He- we-'' Scott and Allison look at him, silently urging him to continue. ''We kissed.'' Scott and Allison glance at each other. ''He said they weren't even together.''

''It only happened an hour ago,'' Allison says.'' We thought you should hear it from us before he tells you. Or doesn't tell you.'' They sit quietly for a moment. Allison reaches forward and grabs Derek's hand, holds it in her own. ''You know this is only temporary, right? This isn't forever. If he can remember us, he can remember you. Give him time and he'll come around eventually.''

''What's with her sudden interest in him anyway?'' Scott and Allison say nothing. ''Why is she punishing me?''

''She's not,'' Allison says quietly. ''She's always felt something for him.'' Derek scoffs, laughs manically a little.

''You mean when she used to trample all over him , and lead him on, and make him do all of these things for her because she was too tired or too busy with Jackson to do them herself?'' He laughs again. ''Right.''

''That was her problem. Jackson. She liked Stiles, yeah, but Jackson, she was in love with him from the start, even if she wouldn't admit it.''

''Then how do you know?''

''She's my best friend. Of course I know. But Jackson was always that one hurdle that Stiles needed to get over to be with Lydia, and the same with her. But she never thought she would get over him, even when he moved to London. That's why she went over for a few weeks just before Stiles fell, so she could finally accept that he was never coming back and she needed to get on with her life. And with Jackson out of the way, that left Stiles.''

''Why would that mean Stiles, I mean, what was she planning to do when she came home, steal him away from me? Stupid bitch!'' he swings at his cup of coffee and it crashes to the floor. ''Leave it!'' he shouts when Scott moves to get up.

''I'm sorry,'' Allison mutters. ''She doesn't want to hurt you but she sees this as her chance to finally be with Stiles and if you were her you'd do everything you could to make it happen, too.'' Derek sighs. ''Even  _she_  knows this isn't a permanent deal.''

''Even if he remembers he'll still choose her over me.''

''You don't actually believe that do you?'' Scott asks, a little bewildered by such a ridiculous thought.

''Before he fell,'' Derek winces. ''He broke it off with me.'' Allison raises her eyebrows and Scott's jaw drops in shock.

''What?'' they ask in unison.

''You two need to stop doing that.'' After a moment to think, he starts again. ''I, um, did something,'' he says weakly. Scott clenches his fists.

''If you hurt him...'' Derek looks at him, and it's look of confirmation. Scott stands and the chair underneath him topples over onto the floor. He swings an arm in Derek's direction and within the blink of an eye, Derek is holding Scott against the counter top, bending Scott's arm up his back in a way an arm isn't meant to be bent.

Scott cries in pain, and Allison stands, pulling Derek off of Scott. They stand in silence, panting hard, before Derek starts again.

''It was an accident. We were- It was the day of the full moon, and we were- fooling around in here. I guess I got a bit carried away and my wolf started coming out. I don't know why, but my claws grew,and I accidentally scraped him in on his side.''

''Then what happened?'' Scott asks through gritted teeth.

''He got up and he- and he left. He locked himself in the bathroom for like an hour and he wouldn't answer me. I could here him crying, and when I finally got in there- there was blood everywhere,'' he gasps. Scott's fists clench again, and Allison holds his arm in case he pounces. ''He was afraid of me, and he wouldn't talk to me. But he forgave me,'' he sniffled. ''He forgave me and he acted like everything was normal but his heart was still beating too fast and he was nervous and acting erratically. He lost his phone and we went out looking for it in the woods and he- he ended things. And he was saying all these things and then he left and that's when he fell.''

They stand in silence. ''Does he know now?''

''No. The sheriff knows, but that's it. I didn't mean to do it, Scott, you know me, you know I'd never want to hurt him.'' Scott swallows and nods. After a moment he speaks.

''We should go,'' he mutters to Allison before leaving the kitchen. ''We'll talk later,'' he calls behind him.

''I'm sorry,'' Derek whispers to her and she nods like she gets it, before giving him a weak smile and leaving, too.

He goes to Stiles' house to apologize later that evening. He stops at the edge of Stiles' garden, and his jaw drops at the sight he sees. Stiles is holding Lydia by her waist and her arms are draped over his shoulders as they kiss on his porch.

He turns around and walks away without a word.

He's never felt more alone in his life.

::: :::

Stiles wraps his tie around his neck, tying it neatly in a tight little knot. He guesses some things just stay with you, no matter what you forget. He wonders if he can still ride a bike. He stares at himself in the mirror, straightening his tie and pulling the cuffs of his shirt straight. He tucks his shirt into his trousers and wraps a belt around his waist.

He sighs. Where did his life go wrong that he works at an office job, even if Derek had told him that it was only a temporary plan to get some money together. Derek. He hasn't seen him in four days, since the kiss. He shoves his feet into a pair of shoes and he abandons the thought. He feels guilty enough without having to dwell on it.

He pulls a hoodie on, one that he doesn't recognize, and he thinks it might be one of Derek's that he had accidentally taken in the move. Maybe he took it on purpose, he doesn't know. He doesn't know anything anymore. It's a little big, and it smells of an aftershave that isn't Stiles'. It's definitely Derek's.

He chokes down half of a slice of toast for breakfast before disposing of it in the bin. He doesn't feel like eating. He grabs his phone and his keys and heads out the door. He drives himself to work, and takes a few deep breaths before he leaves his car. He heads out of the parking lot and as he walks he feels a hand close around his upper arm.

The hands shoves him to the right towards a Toyota and he smiles. He turns his head, wipes the smile off his face before he does so. Derek nods at him when they make eye contact.

''You're coming with me,'' he says sternly, loosening his grip on Stiles but bot letting go completely. Stiles tries to argue, but even he knows it's weak and he's willing to do anything but sit in front of a desk all day. He deflates and steadies himself, pacing himself to match the speed of Derek's walk.

''Where are we going?'' he asks innocently, relaxing under the touch. Derek lets go and walks around to the other side of the car and unlocking the doors. Stiles sits in the passenger seat next to him.

''On a trip down memory lane,'' he replies vaguely. The trip in the car is short but silent, and they arrive outside Derek's apartment in about ten minutes. Stiles turns to him, smiling.

''This is what you call memory lane?'' he laughs slightly. Derek looks at him, and Stiles could swear Derek was looking fondly at him.

''Shut up,'' he mutters lightly, but Stiles doesn't take it seriously, and Derek didn't want him to. They take the elevator up, and when Stiles walks in the room is dark. The enormous window has been covered so no light can pass through.

There's a white screen pulled down in front of the window, and a projector sits in front of it. The coffee table is stuffed with piles of books, and Derek guides him to sit down. He flicks through the books, which are photo albums.

''Derek, what is all this?'' he looks around.

''I told you,'' he grins. ''It's a trip down memory lane.'' He sits down on the couch next to Stiles, plants his feet on the coffee table and holds up a remote to the projector. The projector turns on and a video starts. Stiles slumps down on Derek's arm, which is wrapped around the top of the couch next to Stiles' shoulder.

The video begins, and it's someone recording in the loft.

_The camera flips, and shows Derek's smiling face. He looks nervous. He turns the camera around, and he's holding a tray with a cup of coffee and a pile of pancakes with the number eighteen written in syrup on the top. He kicks their bedroom door open and Stiles is flaked out in their bed._

_Derek puts the tray down on the bedside table and sits on top of Stiles in the bed. Stiles mumbles something as Derek tugs the blanket away from his face. He's still asleep and as Derek states his bed hair looks adorable. Stiles jolts awake at the noise of Derek blowing into a party horn. Derek laughs at Stiles' shocked face as he relaxes and smiles._

_''Happy eighteenth!'' Derek greets and Stiles pulls him down and kisses him. Derek grumbles sarcastically about his morning breath and Stiles laughs before pulling him in for another kiss. Stiles sighs with content._

_''You know what this means now right?'' Stiles laughs at something Derek does off-camera. ''This means we can be together without my dad sticking his nose in. And, you can buy me beer now.''_

_''Is that right?'' Derek asks, bouncing on Stiles. Stiles nods._

_''If you want to get any, then yes,'' Stiles hums contently._

_''Oh, well in that case,'' he kisses Stiles. ''I'll be buying you plenty of beer.'' Stiles laughs and notices the tray next to him._

_''Oh, my God. Breakfast in bed? You are so sweet on me,'' he laughs and Derek growls and the video stops._

Stiles turns to Derek smiling and Derek smiles back, waiting for the next video to start.

The next video plays and it's being recorded in Stiles' kitchen, and the sheriff is heard talking, to himself apparently, because no one appears to be in the room.

_John sighs._

_''So it's prom night,'' he states to the camera as he walks through the kitchen and opens the door to the hallway. ''And guess who Stiles is bringing,'' he sighs. The door to the hallway opens and there are two men standing by the door kissing. It's Stiles and Derek._

_''Mister Hale!'' John calls, as the two boys jerk away from each other, and Stiles straightens his over coat and Derek fixes his hair, cheeks flushed. ''I thought Stiles was bringing you to his prom as a friend, he's not eighteen for another month.''_

_''Yeah, of course, sir,'' he coughs, like a bumbling teenager._

Stiles laughs at the sight of them and Derek nudges an elbow into his side playfully.

_John hums sarcastically as Stiles throws his suit jacket on. ''Bye, Dad!'' he calls as he drags Derek out of the house by the hand. Derek mouths an apology as the door closes._

_John hums and sighs. ''Unbelievable,'' he mutters just before the video cuts off._

The next video starts and it's in their bedroom again.

_Stiles is recording himself in the bed, and he twists the camera to show Derek asleep next to him. Stiles states that he looks cute when he sleeps, but he always looks cute anyway, but especially cute now. He zooms in on Derek's face and he places his hand on Derek's cheek._

_He turns rubbing his face gently, and then roughly, and then he starts pushing Derek's cheek forward so he makes a stupid face, and Stiles coos and laughs off-camera. Derek stirs and opens his eyes, smiling when he sees Stiles._

_''Wake up, it's Christmas,'' Stiles beams, and moves the camera to show snow falling outside the window. Stiles bounces and shoves him again. ''Wake up, Christmas Wolf.''_

_''Hey!'' Derek gives him a stern look. ''Wolves aren't just for Christmas,'' he points._

_''I know,'' Stiles whispers, and kisses him deeply. ''They're for life.''_

_''And don't you forget it.'' The camera cuts to a brightly lit Christmas tree, and there's a bunch of presents piled at the bottom. Derek enters the room with two cups in his hands, and scoffs at the sit of the camera._

_''What? I wanna make this a Christmas to remember. And if we can't, we can always remind ourselves with a little video.'' Derek smiles at him and puts the cups down on the coffee table. He sits down next to the tree and pats the space on the floor next to him, beckoning Stiles over. Stiles sits, and aims the camera at the present Derek picks up._

_It has wrapping paper with a pattern of polar bears wearing antlers and Santa hats dancing in a number of different positions. Stiles laughs and Derek smirks at the tag._

_''It's from Scott,'' he states. Stiles zooms in on the wrapping paper._

_''I never would have known,'' he deadpans. Derek shreds the paper off, and nods his head disapprovingly at what's inside. Stiles leans over and bursts into laughter at the matching 'Mister' and 'Mister' towels._

_''Funny,'' Derek smiles into the camera. Derek leans over, digging for more presents. He pulls one back. ''This ones for me,'' he glances at the tag, ''from you.'' He looks up and smiles, tearing the bow off and ripping the paper off. He holds up his present and his smile falters when he sees the wooly jumper in his hands with a pattern of happy reindeer on it._

_Stiles laughs, and urges him to put it on. Derek pulls his top up, and Stiles aims the camera at his pecks. ''Oh, yeah, there's the money shot,'' he drools, and Derek moves the camera up to his face. Derek puts the jumper on and Stiles reaches into the ball of wrapping paper. ''Here,'' he holds out antlers, ''you forget these.''_

_Derek looks unimpressed, but wears them anyway. ''Don't worry,'' Stiles beams, ''I have another present for you,'' he mutters as he tugs at the waistband of Derek's trousers._

The camera cuts off. The screen turns blue and Derek turns the projector off and sits forward, opening a photo album.

He hands it to Stiles who sits forward to take it, and he flicks through. God, they took a lot of photos in their bed. He laughs at a selfie of Stiles with Derek asleep in the background of it, and smiles warmly at a selfie of Stiles where Derek is kissing his cheek. He giggles at the awkwardness of Derek in their prom photo.

''I'm sorry,'' Stiles mumbles as he puts the album down. Derek looks at him, looking anxious.

''For what?''

''For everything,'' Derek raises his eyebrows, silently urging him to continue, but he remains silent. Derek reaches out and soothes his arm softly.

''You don't have to be sorry, it's not your fault,'' Derek whispers. ''But I will make you remember. Even if it takes the rest of my life, I will make you remember, as long as you'll let me, of course.'' Stiles smiles at him and holds his hand.

''You can try, but good luck.'' They stay silent.

''I wanna take you somewhere.''

''When?''

''Tonight?'' he asks, hopefully. He needs to learn to expect less.

''I can't tonight.''

''Why not?'' To be honest he's afraid to know the answer, but he doesn't know why.

''I have a date with Lydia.'' That's why.

''Okay, maybe another time, then,'' he smiles weakly. Stiles agrees and leaves a little while later, thanks him for going through all of this effort. ''Anything for you, you know that.''

''I do?''

''Well, you do now.'' Stiles smiles at him again and leaves. Derek sighs.

::: :::

Derek sits in his Toyota, watching the house across the street. He sits for an hour maybe, before getting impatient and agitated, and he goes inside. He slips in through the window but leaves it open. He flops down on the bed, and sits there in the dark for another twenty minutes before the front door opens and closes downstairs.

He hears movement throughout the house, steps and a heartbeat and feet coming up the stairs. The door opens and the light flicks on and the sight of Derek sitting on the bed in the dark evokes a scream, and Derek smirks to himself.

''Hello, Lydia,'' he greets in a monotone voice.

''Derek,'' she gasps, panting for air as she holds a hand over her frantically beating heart. ''What are you doing here?'' she straightens herself up. ''You nearly gave me a heart attack.''  _I_ _should be so lucky_ , he thinks. She moves around her room casually, rooting through her wardrobe, probably seeking clothes for her date later.

''I think we need to talk,'' Derek's smug smile drops, and she stops what she's doing, and looks at him. He turns and looks back at her, and they exchange a knowing glance.

''I know,'' she swallows. She clutches a pink blouse, and she lines it on her bed behind where Derek is sitting on the end of it. She steps around him carefully, and sits next to him, plants her hands on her thighs. ''About Stiles, right?'' He hums in confirmation. ''Where should we begin?''

''How about you tell me why you're doing this to me?'' She takes a moment to answer him, considering her words carefully. The last thing she needs right now is to be alone in her house with an angry werewolf. A little too late now, she supposes.

''Because I want to be with him'' Derek scoffs. ''I missed my chance when you two got together. I was too hung up on Jackson to move on from him and be with anybody else, so I tried to make it easier on him by being horrible to him, hoping that one day he might let me go and be with someone who loves him as much as he love them, because he deserves it.''

''And do you love him as much as he loves you?'' She picks at her pink nails awkwardly and says nothing. ''Of course not,'' he sighs.

''Well, maybe one day I will.'' Derek clenches his fists.

''Maybe? That's great, my life is getting destroyed over maybe's. D'you know who does love Stiles as much as Stiles loves them? Me, if not more.''

''I'm not gonna put your feelings ahead of my own, Derek. And if our roles had been reversed you'd do everything in your power to keep him away from me.'' Derek shuffles his feet, staring at the wall in front of them. He's not going to even try and deny it, that's exactly how it would go down.

''Why can't you just step back and let him make an informed decision?''

''Derek, I'm not making the decisions for him, he's making them himself. He remembers the part of his life when he was in love with me, but he only knows he loved you because of word of mouth. This is his choice.''

''None of this is his choice!'' he snaps. ''He should be with me!''

''You don't think I know that? Every time I look at him I regret my decision of picking Jackson over him, and now this is my second chance to get a moment of happiness.'' Derek looks at her sharply.

''What do you mean a  _moment_?'' Lydia sighs.

''He's remembered everything. Everything except the memories of you. He's gonna remember you eventually, in time it'll all come back to him, and he'll come back to you. This is only going to be a temporary thing.''

''You sound pretty okay with that,'' he mutters.

''No, I'm not okay with that, but I've accepted it and it's going to happen one day. At least now I won't have to live with 'what if's for the rest of my life.''

''And what happens when he doesn't remember, when he's happy to spend the rest of his life with you and have kids with you and marry you and do all the other things with you that we'll never get to do together.'' His eyes have gone misty at just the thought. He glances at Lydia, and her eyes are watery, too.

''Then, I'm sorry-''

''You're sorry?'' he interrupts. ''Is that all you have to say for yourself? You're sorry?'' he scoffs, and laughs a little to himself, but it's a broken laugh, full of self-pity and anger and frustration. Full of loneliness.

''I don't know what else I can do.''

''Maybe you can do me a favor?'' he asks, his tone hopeful. He really needs to lower his expectations.

''Shoot,'' she urges, and he tenses a little.

''I was with Stiles earlier, and, yes, I know you two are dating, but I asked him out on a little date of our own.'' Lydia's shoulders tense. ''Nothing romantic or anything like that, but I wanted to talk to him about some things. Show him some things. He said no, obviously, because he has a date tonight with you.''

''And?'' She already knows where he's going with this.

''I was wondering if you could let me take him out tonight. Hoping, actually.''

''Why would I do that for you?'' She doesn't mean to sound so bitter about it, but she does mean to get her point across.

''Because I just poured my heart out to you for the first time ever about marriage and kids and that's gotta count for something, right?'' he winces, scared of her answer.

''You really want to have kids with him?'' That's not the answer he was expecting. He takes a moment to reply.

''It's not something we really talked about yet, but I suppose I want a family of my own one day. I'm not scared of the idea, either. The only thing that scares me is the whole 'I have two daddies' thing.'' Lydia laughs softly.

''I think that's super cute,'' she grins. ''I can imagine it now, actually. Little Stiles' and Derek's running around here, and obviously you'd have to have a girl so I could be her Godmother, and I can spoil her rotten. They'd be so sarcastic, can you even imagine? And, oh, the terrible jokes Stiles will teach them. They'll be little terrors with their Daddy's scowls,'' she smiles, nudging his elbow.

''They're days that I look forward to, when our lives are about as complicated as raising a child, and all this alpha-kanima-hunter thing is finally behind us.'' He sighs contently. ''Providing things go my way over the next few weeks.'' Lydia smiles at him, and grips his hand tightly. ''You'd make a great father. And a great husband. Stiles is a very lucky man.''

''I was under the impression that I was the lucky one.'' She laughs lightly.

''Maybe it works both ways,'' she says with raised, implying eyebrows. Derek raises his free hand.

''Whoa, I'm taken. I think. I don't really know anymore.'' They laugh to themselves and she lets go of his hand and stands, putting her blouse back in the wardrobe. His eyes follow her, and she sighs.

''You can have him tonight, I guess.'' Derek smiles brightly at her, he could kiss her right now. ''Go home and get ready,'' she urges him out the door. ''I'll call him and let him know there's a change of plan.''

''I owe you one,'' he beams as he heads out the door. She hums in agreement as he leaves. He pops his head back in the door and smiles a thank you at her. When he leaves her smiles fades and she calls Stiles, pretends to have a stomach bug and tells him to go out with Derek. She sighs when she hangs up. She's getting way too nice these days.

Derek walks to his car with a spring in his step and laughs to himself as he starts the engine.

Maybe things are going his way.

::: :::

Derek picks him up at eight o'clock. Stiles paces around, fidgeting and he feels slightly nervous. He tries to remember if he'd taken his Adderall this morning, and is relieved when he remembers he did. The last thing he needs is for him to forget his medication. He doesn't know why he's so nervous, it's just dinner with Derek. He's eaten dinner with Derek before.

He sees the blinds shimmer from headlights outside and the hall lights up as the car parks up on the curb. He clears his throat and brushes his shirt down. He checks himself in the mirror before he answers the door, and Derek greets him with a huge smile. There's a hint of nervous energy radiating from him, and Derek can probably smell his own nerves.

Derek coughs when he realizes he's been staring at Stiles and hasn't said anything yet. ''Hi,'' he coughs, and Stiles laughs at him. ''Sorry,'' he shrugs. Stiles pats his shoulder.

''S'ok,'' he grins. He gives Derek a once over as they walk. ''You clean up nice.'' Derek smiles.

''You don't look so bad yourself.''

''Yeah, I bet,'' and Stiles gets and elbow in his ribs for that one. Stiles stops and Derek turns to him, looking confused. ''Where's your car?'' He looks around him, not seeing Derek's Toyota around.

''This  _is_  my car. The Toyota was a monstrosity, so I traded it back in for my old Chevy.'' He smiles smugly as he slides into the car and Stiles just gawps at the car.

''You've earned yourself, like, plus ten brownie points for the car, Dude.''

''Oh, my God.'' he cringes. ''You haven't called me 'Dude' in like three years.''

''Sorry,'' Stiles laughs.

''No, it's okay. I kinda like it.'' Derek drives them downtown, and they exchange fond glances at each other when they think the other isn't looking. Derek smiles contently. It's like how it used to be. Kinda. With less sex and more memory loss, but whatever. Shut up, he's happy, okay?

He pulls to a stop outside a ratty, shady looking pizza place, and Derek states that this is where they went on their first date. Stiles looks at him in mock horror.

''You took me to a pizzeria on our first date?''

''What? It was lashing rain and we were on foot. You picked this place.''

''Well, I can see why,'' he laughs, pointing to the sign over the door that says 'Pizzeria', with the 'Pi' highlighted. The slogan underneath it reads 'The sum of all pizzas.' Derek laughs.

''Yeah, you liked that one,'' he smiles. ''We can go somewhere else if you like.''

''No,'' Stiles undoes his seat belt. ''I'm in the mood for pizza, I haven't had it in weeks,'' he says dreamily. Derek raises his eyebrows at him in disbelief. ''Okay, fine,'' he raises his hands in defense. ''It's been a couple of days, but come on, who doesn't like pizza?'' He gets out of the car hurriedly, and Derek follows him. His stomach flips at the sight of Stiles being so happy.

Of course he'd be excited about food.

Okay, so the place isn't exactly on the street with the safest reputation for drugs and crime, and it's not exactly the cleanest place he's been to, but they don't care at all. The restaurant has certainly seen better days, and Stiles being so casual about it makes his insides warm.

The walls are grimey and the tables have been neglected of a wash cloth for days at least. Derek wipes the table over with his sleeve and Stiles clucks his tongue fondly. ''You are so sweet on me'', he smiles. Derek takes the seat with the torn cushion, and pulls Stiles' seat from under the table for him.

The workers aren't really welcoming, and they look like they need to wash their hands a little more often. They smile at them, however, and make conversation with them, even if they don't look overly interested in what they have to say. They grunt as they take Stiles' order and Derek asks for whatever Stiles is having.

Stiles goes to get up once the waitress has gone, and Derek tugs on his wrist. ''Where are you going?''

''To the bathroom?'' He elongates the sentence, and he isn't sure if it was a statement or a question.

''I'll come,'' he offers and goes to get up.

''I think I can manage,'' he laughs, holding Derek down in his seat. ''You don't need to babysit me.''

''This place is sketch as fuck,'' he stands, shoving Stiles towards the rest room. ''I'm not letting you out of my sight.'' Stiles relents, he gets it now, so he lets Derek follow him in.

''I kinda like this place,'' Stiles scans the room as he sits back down across from Derek. Derek nods.

''Me, too.'' Mostly because of the memories, if it had been a regular day he wouldn't have given the place a second thought. He smiles at the old days. Stiles looks around the room, and starts laughing. Derek snaps out of his daze and jerks his head to where Stiles is staring. He reads the poster, sighs with a smile and nods his head disapprovingly.

''What? It's funny!'' he points to a poster on the wall next to the door. It has a cat and a line under it reads 'Get meowta here.' ''Man,'' he giggles, ''this place loves their puns. I bet I could give them a few tips.'' Derek points a finger at him.

''Don't go there.'' Stiles smiles.

''Don't you mean:  _Doughn't_  go there?'' Derek bites back a smile, but Stiles doesn't hide his, and Derek covers his face in his hands. Stiles opens his mouth to say something but Derek cuts in.

''One more pun and I'm gonna give you a pizza my mind.'' Stiles' smile widens and he cackles, before he considers Derek.

''Man, that joke can't be  _topped._ ''

''I don't know, I could go a few more rounds,'' he smiles casually.

''This is so lame.  _We_ are so lame,'' Stiles declares as the waitress puts their pizzas on the table before them.

''You started it!,'' he flicks a mushroom at Stiles and Stiles picks it up.

''Yeah, and your jokes were terrible! There's definitely mushroom for improvement,'' he flicks it back on Derek's plate, and Derek says nothing back. They remain silent until they're both finished, nothing gets in the way of Stiles and food, even a conversation with Derek.

Derek asks the waitress for the bill and she nods and walks unenthusiastically behind the counter as she blows a bubble with her gum. Stiles reaches for his wallet, and Derek reaches out and stops him. ''I'll get this one,'' and Stiles relaxes, ''it's the yeast I could do,'' he grins.

''Wow,'' Stiles deadpans. ''How long have you been sitting on that one?'' he smirks.

''About fifteen minutes,'' he smiles to himself, proud.

''Where are you taking me now, Funny Wolf?'' he sits back, pulling his jacket on. That nickname still does things to Derek. He thinks for a second.

''Actually, I was thinking of this spot in the woods,'' he leans forward. ''We went there on our first date, so, I thought, you know, we could go back?'' Stiles smiles and nods in agreement.

''Yeah, okay.''

''It's where we had our first kiss.'' He immediately regrets saying that when Stiles gawps at him and the tips of his ear go pink with the blush. They get the bill and Derek pays, before he guides Stiles across the street to his car.

Stiles takes a deep breath as he stands on the mountain top, looking down at the view of the entire town. It's a beautiful sight, he can see his own house from here. He looks at the town, and smiles at their ignorance of the presence of werewolves and kanimas and anything else mythical.

He takes a step forward, and apparently that's a big no-no because Derek is urging him to step further away from the edge of the cliff. He does as he's told, even if it is unnecessary, though he can't blame Derek for wanting to protect him after everything they've been through.

He sits next to Derek on an overturned log. Derek shifts to allow him have more space. The air is cold, and when he exhales he can see his own breath. He shivers and within three seconds Derek's jacket is wrapped around his shoulders. He didn't even see him take it off.

''It's okay, I don't want you to get cold.''

''Stiles, I'm a wolf, but thanks for the concern,'' he says dryly.

''Thanks for the jacket,'' he shoves his arms down the sleeves and pulls the zip up to his neck. Derek scans him over, pays particular attention to Stiles' jittery knee.

''Now you're just over-exaggerating,'' he smiles.

''What? It's cold!'' he refutes, pointing out the fact that he can see his own breath. Derek sighs and shifts nearer to him, wraps and arm around Stiles and tugs him closer. Stiles holds on to him tightly. ''This is  _real_  romantic,'' he mutters sarcastically through a shaky jaw.

Derek pokes him in his ribs. ''Shut up, I'm doing my best here.'' Stiles hums and grips tighter.

''Tell me more about our date.''

''What?''

''Our date,'' he repeats. ''The first one, you said we came up here after. Tell me about it.'' Derek takes a moment to think, and he begins.

''There's nothing much to tell you, really. We came up here after the pizza place, and we sit here on this log. We were arguing over some stupid shit and just as I was about to make my point you kissed me. Then we made out. A  _lot._ '' Stiles sits up.

''Is that it?''

''That's it,'' he confirms.

''Was I good?'' Stiles shifts closer and Derek laughs to himself.

''Yeah, you were good,'' he sniffles.

''Were you good?'' Derek's smile fades, and his face turns serious, and then soft.

''You tell me,'' he says, but it's barely a whisper. He leans forward slightly, but Stiles doesn't move. He moves his hand to Stiles' cheek, and then along his jawline and to the back of his neck. He pulls Stiles forward and Stiles lets himself be guided. Derek's lips close around his, and this time Stiles pays attention to how soft they are, surprisingly soft.

Derek's stubble burns his chin and cheeks a little, but he likes the friction. He holds Derek's face, brushes his thumb along his chin. The kiss ends and Derek rests his forehead against Stiles'. Stiles' breath is hot against his neck as he pants slightly. He catches Derek's lips again, and Derek parts them, silently urging Stiles to take the next step.

His tongue slides against Derek's bottom lip as he licks into Derek's mouth where it's warm and wet and inviting. Stiles pushes forward and Derek leans back and suddenly Stiles is lying on top of him. Derek wraps his arms around Stiles' waist.

Their tongues taste like pizza and soda, and now they taste like each other. Derek tips his head back and opens his mouth wider, allowing Stiles to make it deeper. There's a clang of teeth in the desperation of it all but it only spurs them on further. Derek runs his hands up Stiles back under his tee shirt and Stiles bites at Derek's lips, before kissing him again.

He relaxes on top of Derek and rests his face against Derek's neck and sucks on it, then watches the bruise he leaves disappear. Derek sits up and forces Stiles back onto the log, and he sighs.

''I think we need to talk.'' Stiles nods absently, and coughs. The taste of Derek is still vivid in his mouth. ''What are we?''

''I don't know,'' he answers honestly. He's honest, if anything, to Derek. He's only known him a few weeks and he's already comfortable enough around him to tell him anything. There's that, and, Derek would know if he was lying anyway.

''Are you with Lydia?'' He keeps his hopes down, because he already knows the answer.

''Yes.'' He refuses to make eye contact with Derek, he just focuses on the buzzing town in the distance.

''Then why do you keep letting me kiss you?'' Stiles swallows hard, and it almost hurts his now dry throat.

''Because I like you. I'm drawn to you, it's like, I'm making a mistake with Lydia. Something deep inside me is telling me to get out before people get hurt.'' Derek waits for the 'but'. ''But, I don't know, a part of me feels like I'm making the right choice.''

''Which part of you do you think is right?''

''I haven't decided yet. You both are on equal grounds right now.''

''You're in love with her, aren't you?''

''I don't know. I think so.'' He's sorry he asked.

''Are you in love with me?'' His hopes are pretty low at this point.

''I don't know.'' He's sorry he asked. The lack of 'I think so' pretty much tells him all he needs to hear. ''Are you in love with me?'' Derek raises his eyebrows as if to say 'Duh.' ''Right,'' he laughs.

''Do you think you could ever love me again?''

''I don't know.'' His voice is low and cracked. ''Maybe, one day, it'll all come back to me and...'' Derek squeezes his hand.

''You can look at me the way you used to?'' Stiles flinches and falls backwards onto the ground.

_''If you love me like you say you love me, you'll give me as long as it takes.''_

_''As long as it takes to what?''_

_''To look at you again the way I used to look at you''_

Derek stands up and kneels down next to him. ''Are you okay?'' he asks, offering him a hand. Stiles stares at him wide eyed, and he flinches again.

_''It was an accident. I don't know what happened. I don't know what came over me.''_

_''It hurts, Derek. Every time I move it hurts. And every time it reminds me of what you did. I thought I could trust you. I thought you'd be the one to never hurt me again.''_

Stiles backs away from Derek on his elbows, and Derek looks at him, confused, like he has two heads. He offers his hand out again, and Stiles twists and stands up again. ''Stay away from me.''

Stiles turns and walks away, and Derek follows him. ''Stiles!'' he calls him. Stiles quickens his pace, not looking back.

_''The only thing that can make me feel any better right now, is space.''_

Derek grabs his arm and spins him. ''Stiles, what's goin' on with you?'' he questions. Stiles yanks his arm out of Derek's grasp like he's just been burned. His eyes are glassy, and he looks as if he's about to burst into tears. When he points at Derek his hand is quivering.

''I remember.'' A tear falls down his face.

''You remember me?'' he asks hopefully.

''No.'' His hopes are dashed. Again. ''But I remember the fight.'' His voice is shaky, and his body tense, his face wet with tears. He turns and walks away, leaving Derek a little bewildered.

''Stiles!'' he calls after him, not sure why, he's never going to be able to justify this. Stiles unzips Derek's jacket and flings it on the ground as he walks.

''Stay away from me, Derek. Please.'' He doesn't look back, doesn't grant Derek the satisfaction, he just walks. Derek chases after him, walking behind Stiles at the same pace.

''Stiles, can we just talk about this?''

''There's nothing to talk about,'' he sniffles, wiping the tears from his cheeks, only to be replaced with new ones. ''Just leave me alone.''

''Stiles, please. Just let me explain.'' Stiles halts and turns, and Derek nearly crashes into him, but Stiles doesn't even flinch, he holds his own.

''Go on, then. Explain it to me. Explain why you dug your nails into me and ripped my skin apart. Explain it to me.'' Derek stares at him, his expression full of remorse and pity and sorrow. Stiles scoffs. ''Explain how I felt during that conversation, 'cause I sure as hell can. Do you know what it feels like to feel empty inside? Do you know what it feels like to be afraid of the person you're supposed to love? That's how I felt, alone, and afraid, and hollow, and I didn't like it. Explain that.''

He turns and walks away, and Derek stares at the ground beneath his own feet. He knows those feelings pretty well actually, but now isn't the time to explain that to him. He follows him again.

''Stiles-'' Stiles shoves him back.

''Just stop,'' he cries, shoving him again. He deserves it, he deserves worse than a shove. ''Leave me alone!'' Stiles swings a fist at Derek's face, and Derek forgets himself and lets it happen. Stiles lets out a loud cry at the contact and waves his hand in the air, trying to air out the pain. Derek hardly blinked.

''I'm sorry.''

''It's fine,'' he puts pressure on his knuckles, wincing at the pain.

''Not for that. Well, yes, for that. But for everything else, too.'' Stiles doesn't do anything for a moment, before he glances at Derek, his eyes full of hate and anger.

''You're  _sorry_?  _Sorry_?'' He holds his hands out in the air and shouts at the sky. ''Well I feel much better now that I know you're  _sorry._ ''

''Stiles just-'' Stiles scoffs at him and walks away, and Derek heads in the other direction towards the road where he parked his car. He knows that Stiles needs time to cool off. ''Your house is in the other direction, by the way.''

Derek drives along the road in the woods, and heads towards Stiles' house. He waits there for twenty minutes before he sees Stiles come around the corner in the rear view mirror. He tuns the engine off and gets out as Stiles enters his garden.

''Stiles, wait up!'' he closes the door and jogs up to him.

''What part of 'leave me alone' don't you understand?'' He doesn't look at Derek, he just keeps walking as he fishes his keys out of his pockets. Luckily the sheriff isn't home or he'd be serving Derek's ass to him on a plate right now.

''Just let me talk.''

''You can talk all you want, I'm just not gonna listen to you.'' He takes the keys out of his pocket and winces as he closes his fingers around the key.

''Let me see that,'' he holds his hands out and jerks them away, he doesn't have the right to touch him. ''Just-'' Stiles slams the door in his face. ''I'll be here all night!'' he shouts. ''If you wanna talk,'' he trails off. He sits on the porch and waits, and waits, and waits. After an hour or so he hears the back door open and he heads around back.

He spots Stiles at the garbage can, and he winces and drops the bag of rubbish when he tries to lift up the lid with his swollen hand. He stills, and turns to look at Derek, like he could feel his eyes burning into the back of his neck.

''I can help with that,'' he steps forward, out of the darkness and into the light beaming from the kitchen window.

''I'm fine, thanks,'' he scowls, before turning back and lifting the rubbish into the can only with his good hand. He turns back and Derek is just inches from him now. He grabs Stiles' wrist, who tries to pull away but can't under Derek's strength. The blood rushing through Derek's veins turns black and he twitches slightly. He releases Stiles and he jerks his hand away.

He wiggles his fingers about and grasps at air. ''Thanks,'' he mutters, before moving to go back inside.

''How can I make it up to you?'' Stiles stops in his tracks.

''You think of something.'' He goes back inside the house, locks the door behind him and leaves Derek standing out there in the dark.

Derek comes back half an hour later when Stiles is in the dining room. He's eating a bowl of cereal like he usually does before he goes to bed. Derek come up to the window and presses a piece of paper against the glass. Stiles acknowledges him, but doesn't show it. Instead he stares blankly at the wall, eating his fruit loops.

''So I ,uh, didn't really know what to do. I'm not a very big romantic gesture kinda guy, you know that. So instead, I wrote a list, of all the reasons why I love you.'' Stiles stills for a moment before going back to chewing on his cereal.

''Number one: I never knew I could fall so madly in love with a guy who I hated so much when we first met.'' Stiles continues chewing.

''Number two: I never thought I could ever feel anything other than fear and anger until I met you.'' Stiles holds the bowl up to his mouth and swallows the rest of his milk. A drop of water lands on Derek's piece of paper, and then on his cheek when he looks up.

''It's starting to rain, can I come in and tell you?'' Stiles stands and heads into the kitchen. Derek follows him and stands outside the window beside where Stiles is standing as he washes his bowl in the sink.

''Number three: Your jokes are terrible and sometimes I used to wish you would just keep them to yourself. But, when you were in hospital, I actually missed them.'' Stiles dries his bowl and puts it in the cupboard, and he moves into the living room, planting himself on the couch. Derek arrives outside the window.

''Number four: You're the nicest, kindest, funniest and sweetest person in the whole world.'' Stiles turns off the TV and the light and goes upstairs to his room. When he enters Derek is sitting outside his window sill in the pouring rain.

''Number five: You're the most forgiving person I've ever met, and you bring out the best in people. You make me want to be more like you, see the world through your innocent eyes and  _see_  the good things in the world.'' Stiles smiles to himself, but away from Derek's vision.

''Number six: I'm willing to sit out here in the lashing rain for you right now and I'm willing to sit here until the end of time if it means you'll forgive me.''

Stiles stops, and turns and looks at him. He opens the window. ''Get in,'' he mutters, sounding not particularly interested in whether he comes in or not. Derek does as he's told, and closes the window behind him.

''Thanks.'' Stiles says nothing and hands him the towel, barely even looks at him. Derek doesn't know what this means, the fact that Stiles let him in, and after a moment he speaks. ''I meant every word.''

''It took you half and hour to think of five reason?'' Stiles smirks slightly. Derek smiles, and Stiles points a finger at him. ''This means nothing, by the way. I'm still pissed, and to be honest I still don't know I've forgiven you yet.'' Derek nods in understanding.

''Okay,'' he says quietly. Stiles pulls the blanket down his bed, and Derek stands. ''I should go,'' he thumbs towards the door.

''Yeah, I should get some sleep anyway.'' Derek moves for the door, but Stiles stops him. ''You should probably use the window. If you leave footprints on the carpet my dad will make me clean it so...'' he thumbs at the window. ''That, and I still kinda want you to suffer a bit.''

Derek smiles lightly and climbs out the window. ''Goodnight, Stiles.'' He wants to add 'I love you' at the end, but probably doesn't have the right to, it would feel like he was trying to influence his decision. Stiles hums and rolls over in his bed, and Derek shuts the window.

::: :::

Derek doesn't see Stiles the next day, which is totally understandable. He wouldn't be surprised if Stiles cut him out of his life for good, and Stiles probably should. It's late in the afternoon when he next sees Stiles, two days later. He's just out of the shower and he drying himself off in his room when Stiles barges in the door.

''Whoa!'' Stiles gapes at Derek's manhood, before he closes his eyes and closes the door tight. ''Sorry!'' he chokes. Derek laughs, opening the door, this time he has a towel around his waist.

''It's alright, nothing you haven't seen like twelve hundred times before,'' he smirks.

''Oh, my God you loser. You counted?''

''No,'' Derek scowls fondly. Can you scowl fondly? Apparently you can when Stiles just smiles at him. ''But we got shit done. A lot. I mean, a  _lot_ , a lot.''

''Okay, don't over do it there, pal,'' he raises his hands up in defense. Derek considers him as he pulls socks onto his feet.

''Pal? Does that mean...''

''It means,'' he interrupts him. ''That I don't take shit from anyone, including you, Oh Love of My Life. I'm one to stand for being bullied-''

''I didn't bul-''

''And I don't stand for being hurt, at all, in any way shape or form. So no, I haven't totally forgiven you yet, and I may never. But I'm not standing by and letting that type of shit go lightly. You did a stupid thing, a hurtful thing, and yes, it probably was because of the full moon that night but it was still no excuse. But like you said the other night, I am forgiving, and I want to see the best in people, so I'm giving you another chance, and we can move forward, but not forget about it. Deal?'' Derek swallows.

''Deal.'' Stiles nods.

''Get dressed. I'll make us coffee.'' Derek sighs, relieved, once Stiles is gone. He walks into the kitchen, his hair still soaked, and finds Stiles sitting on the counter drinking his coffee, casually flicking through a magazine. Derek takes his coffee and sips it, sighs contently and looks at Stiles.

''What?'' Stiles asks.

''Can I still take you places?'' Stiles nods.

''Yeah, I guess so. I don't see why not. Where are we going?'' Derek smiles slightly.

''There's a place in the forest I wanna take you.''

''There's always a place in the forest you wanna take me.'' Derek laughs, because, actually, it is true.

''This is an important place for us,'' he says softly, looking a little insecure but looks happy at the idea of the place and what it stands for.

''And why is that?''

''I'll tell you when we get there.'' Stiles smiles and raises his eyebrows.

''Mysterious.''

''What can I say? I'm full of surprises.'' Stiles hums in agreement and goes back to his magazine, idly sipping from his coffee. Derek takes his back to his room and drinks it as he dries and styles his hair. When he comes back out he finds Stiles sprawled out on the couch flicking through TV stations. Derek usually hates that. He lets it slide this time.

''How was your date last night?'' Stiles startles upon hearing the words, and he relaxes almost immediately.

''Oh, yeah, fine.'' Derek sits on the arm of the couch next to Stiles' feet. ''It was a bit more upper class than a pizzeria, but it was fun.''

''But was it as romantic as a walk through the woods after?'' he muses. Stiles tilts his head, thinks about it for a second.

''Yeah,'' he confirms casually. Derek smirks.

''You get any?'' Stiles surges forward, choking on his own breath. He clears his throat.

''Would you want to know if I did?'' Derek considers him.

''I guess not.''

''No, I didn't  _get any_ ,'' he smiles and stands. ''Lets go, Horny Wolf.'' Derek sighs and follows him out.

''What am I supposed to be looking at here?'' Stiles questions, staring blankly at the ground. There's nothing special about this place in the woods, there's no log to sit on, there's no cliff top view, it's just a generic part of the forest.

There's old and crispy leaves blanketing the ground, and there's trees,  _obviously_. It's cold and windy, and he's already regretting this. He slides his shaking, purple hands into his pocket to save them from the bitter cold. Derek climbs up a tree like a limber cat, or dog- can dogs climb trees?- whatever, and he inspects something on the trunk.

He smiles to himself and drops down from the branch, landing on his feet, casual as you like. ''This is it,'' he holds his arms out, a big , stupid grin plastered on his face. Stiles looks around him, then to the sky, then to the ground, not having a clue what he's supposed to be looking at.

''This is  _what_?'' he shivers. Derek rolls his eyes and throws his jacket at him, and Stiles slides into it, feeling warmer already.

''This is the spot,'' he says vaguely, as if Stiles is supposed to know. He wants to punch Derek, right now, the pain would be worth it. His skin is like concrete. He raises his eyebrows, urging Derek to continue.

''Ah, the spot, thanks for clearing that up, Dude.'' Derek falls back onto the ground, and Stiles is almost sure he's gonna start making leave angels on the ground. He beckons Stiles to join him, and Stiles lies down next to him. Derek shifts further away, and pulls Stiles with him. ''What are you doing?''

''I'm trying to find the right spot,'' he shifts away again, and tugs on Stiles until Stiles moves over next him.

''I'm gonna punch you.'' Derek laughs.

''Yeah, because it worked out so well for you the last time you did that.'' Stiles shifts to where Derek moved again, and Derek sighs with content, or achievement, Stiles isn't really sure. '' _This_  is the spot.'' Stiles sighs with frustration.

''The spot for what?'' he asks, trying not to clench his teeth in anger.

''This is where you told me you loved me for the first time.'' Stiles stills, and looks up at Derek's grinning face as he stares at the sky, watching the clouds pass above the gaps in the tree branches.

''You better have said it back,'' he lies back down.

''What makes you think  _you_  said it first?'' he muses. Stiles takes a moment to answer.

''You are  _way_  too sociably awkward to say it first.'' Derek thumps him lightly in the shoulder, but it feels more like a fond nudge.

''Hey, I resent that.'' Stiles hums in amusement. ''And yeah, I did say it back. For the record.''

''Knew it.'' Derek pokes him in his ribs, and Stiles squirms away. ''Gah!'' he rolls over. Derek laughs and he rolls back over. ''What made you fall in love with me?'' he asks a few moments later.

''I told you that the other night.''

''Right.'' He thinks for a moment. '' _When_ did you fall in love with me?'' he pushes.

''What, you want the exact moment?''

''Yep.'' Stiles grins. Derek remains silent for a minute or two, thinking. ''Well?''

''Okay, I have it.''

''Go on.''

''It was during our first fight as couple.'' Stiles sits forward, looks at him a little bewildered, raising his eyebrows in question.

''Romantic.''

''We were fighting over- well I don't even know to be honest.'' Stiles raises his eyebrows even higher. ''Okay,'' he laughs. ''We were fighting over Chinese food, and it was during that fight that I realized I was so fucking in. I had finally met my match.''

''That's adorable,'' he lies back down. ''You have the best luck, do you know that?'' he asks after about ten minutes of silence. Derek looks at him, urging him to continue. ''The only thing I remember about you is a fight we had.'' Derek sighs.

''Luck of the draw, I guess.''

''I wonder wh-'' Stiles flinches, and a memory flashes into his vision. Derek snaps up and jerks his head towards Stiles, who is now standing, holding his head in his hands.

''Are you okay?'' Derek holds Stiles' arm, soothing it.

''Yeah,'' he winces. ''I- I think I'm remembering something,'' he mutters through a clenched jaw.

''What is it?'' Another flash covers his vision.

''It's me. I'm walking through the woods. Alone. I'm crying, and there's blood on my shirt. My chest hurts.'' Derek stills. ''I think it's the day of the fight.'' Derek takes his hand off him.

''What's happening?''

''I'm scared, and I'm looking for my phone. There's a sound, like- like a twig snapping under someone's foot. I get startled and I turn to look behind me and- and that's it.''

Stiles opens his eyes and let's go of his head. He turns and looks at Derek who is now sitting on the ground next to him. ''I don't remember anything else.''

::: :::

It's been over a week since Derek took him to the woods. He hasn't seen Stiles since that day, well, until today. Derek is sitting on his bed when Stiles walks in. His chin is resting on his knees, and he's sitting in silence reading his book, wearing a pair of reading glasses that make him look sexier, if it's even possible.

It's late in the afternoon and the sky is beginning to redden, and a hazy orange glow fills the room. Derek is in his pajamas and a raggy tee shirt, he clearly wasn't planning to leave the house or have any visitors over. His bed hair is cute. He greets Stiles with a lazy grin and Stiles nods at him silently.

He flops down on the bed, like he's said before, the mattress is really fucking comfy. Derek continues with his book, and Stiles bounces absently beside him, actually enjoying the silence. After a while he realizes he's dozing, so he gets up and makes himself a coffee, and puts Derek's on the bedside table next to him.

He gets restless eventually, he can't cope in too much silence without opening his mouth or getting hyperactive. ''You're awfully quiet,'' he comments. Derek looks at him for a second before going back to his book.

''I'm reading,'' he answers. Wow, he really doesn't have much to say today. ''I could say the same for you.'' Stiles crawls over to him, grabs the book from his hands and inspects the front cover.

''It must be a good book,'' he observes, flinging the book back. Derek makes a conscious effort to grab it without losing the page number. He folds the corner of the page over and closes the book.

''It is.'' He discards it in the drawer next to him.

''What's it about?'' Derek sighs.

''It's about a guy- a very loud, obnoxious guy who makes terrible jokes and thinks he's funny-''

''Funny wolf!'' he grins, and Derek lets out a little laugh.

''Thanks.''

''So, speaking of books.'' Derek quirks a look at him. ''You got any more stories for me?'' Derek thinks to himself for minute.

''What do you wanna know?'' Stiles considers him for a minute.

''I don't know, anything really. What comes to mind for you?'' Derek looks around him, looking for inspiration. His eyes focus on the bed.

''This is the bed where we first had sex.'' Stiles splutters, and rolls over to him laughing to himself.

''I was thinking of something more along the lines of PG13.''

''So you don't wanna know?'' he asks with raised eyebrows, like he was asking a question with the most obvious answer in the world. Stiles looks away and Derek smirks. ''I'm gonna take that as a yes?''

''Take it as a no. I don't wanna hear about that shit.'' Derek notices his heartbeat rise, and he takes  _that_  as a yes.

''It happened after our fifth date-''

''Fifth?!'' he snaps his head to look at Derek. ''What, did we have a pact of celibacy or something?''

''No,'' Derek laughs, blushing a little. ''We just- I don't know- we took things slow, ya know? It's something we did a lot in our relationship, we were both pretty much new to it, walking on different ground and that stuff. I mean, everyone else knew we were made for each other before we did.''

''Fifth date,'' Stiles scoffs. ''I bet it was you just being awkward, or, better yet, you weren't sure if I wanted it and you were trying to protect me.'' Derek blushes and turns his face away. ''Knew it,'' he smirks triumphantly. ''I can read you like a book.'' Derek hums in sarcastic agreement.

''It was raining when we got back here after the movie theater. You asked me for a change of clothes and when I came back from the bedroom you said you didn't need them anymore,'' he says absently.

''Derek,'' he warns, but it's barely even a whisper.

''You kissed me, shoved me on the bed and climbed on me. You tore my clothes off as we kissed.''

''Derek, please,'' he begs.

''I remember than night like it was yesterday. The way you begged me for more as I fucked you hard, the way you screamed my name as I ripped the orgasm from you like I owned it. The way you-''

''Derek, stop!'' he silences him, and stands from the bed, his eyes glassy and his voice shaky. ''What, are you trying to make me feel more guilty than I already am? You want me to suffer, is that it?'' Derek stands, his stance confrontational.

''Why are you feeling guilty, Stiles? Is t because you promised you'd spend time with me and then blew me off the first day day you got out of hospital, or is it because you keep leading me on and then the next day you act like nothing happened between us?'' Derek own eyes are gone watery.

''I'm gonna tell Lydia I love her tonight on our date.'' Derek laughs, bitter and angry.

''What, after three dates? You don't know Lydia, she's just gonna throw it back in your face like she always does.''

''Your not gonna change my mind.''

''Then why are you even here?!'' A tear rolls down Stiles' cheek.

''I wanted to tell you in person.''

''Yeah, because you looked all prepped and ready to break my heart when you were asking me to tell you about our relationship! Or did you even have the decency to even think about telling me before now?'' Stiles stares at him. ''So that's it? So long, Derek, our relationship means nothing to me, excuse me, while I run off with the girl that used to use me as a pack mule!''

''What relationship?'' Derek stills, before stepping forward.

''Oh, no, don't do that. Don't even try that shit on with me! You've lived here in the apartment for the last three- almost four years of your life, so don't think that you can just play that off with me!''

''I'm sorry-''

''Oh, you're sorry. Well, I feel so much better now, how considerate of you Stiles to tell me you're sorry,'' he kicks his leg out and the chest of drawer flies across the room, crashing into the wall and breaking into pieces.

''Maybe I should go.''

''What, are you not gonna stay so you can break my heart further and then step on the pieces?'' Stiles doesn't answer him, instead heads for the door, only hearing the sound of Derek cursing as he flips furniture behind him.

''I'm sorry,'' he says when he opens the door, knowing Derek can hear him, before he leaves to the sound of the bedside locker smashing against the wall.

::: :::

''Scott, can you get the door?'' Allison calls from where she's standing over the cooker, stirring the pasta sauce. Scott shouts a muffled 'yes' from upstairs where he's tending to his daughter in her crib.

''Just a second!'' he calls, running down the stairs following a second impatient knock. Of course, it's Derek standing on his doorstep. ''Hey, Derek,'' he greets. Derek goes to speak, but instead stares at where Chloe has just puked down his shoulder. ''Oh, gross,'' he sighs, shoving her towards Derek. Derek reluctantly accepts her in his arms, scrunching his nose at her as Scott runs back upstairs to change his shirt.

Allison bobs her head out of the kitchen doorway and waves for to come in with her hand. He approaches her, swaying Chloe in his arms. ''And how is my favorite niece?'' he holds her by the armpits, grinning at her as she coos and blinks at him innocently. Allison takes her and puts her in her high chair.

''Are you staying for dinner?'' she asks, pouring wine into glasses.

''No, thank you, I'm not staying long, just a flying visit before I go.'' She stops stirring and drops her wooden spoon and Scott enters. She opens her mouth to speak.

''Why where ya goin'?'' Scott interrupts her, scooping baby food into a bowl and shoving it into the microwave. ''Potato and leak today, sweetheart,'' he beams at Chloe, who doesn't even acknowledge him, just shoves her rattle into her mouth and gnaws on it.

''I'm moving to New York.'' They stop and stare at him, and Derek can almost feel 'What about Stiles?' about to roll off their tongues.

''What about Stiles?'' they question in unison.

''He's in love with Lydia, he told me so himself earlier,'' he informs them, his tone soft and full of regret.

''He said that?'' Scott asks, tasting the mush they call baby food and he cringes. ''Open wide,'' he beckons the girl, and she continues eating her toy.

''Yeah, pretty much.''

''What's in New York?'' Allison cuts up some mushrooms, dumping them in the sauce.

''Cora. I'm gonna stay with her for a while before I find my feet. Then, who knows?''

''Is there anything we can do to change your mind?'' Derek nods at her.

''There's nothing left for me here. Just what if's and bad memories. I never should have come back in the first place.'' Scott makes airplane noises as he pushes the spoon of food into Chloe's mouth.

''At east somebody likes the taste,'' he mutters, wiping her mouth with her bib. ''What if he remembers?'' he asks, sitting down at the table next to Derek.

''Then he knows where he can find me.'' Scott nods, squeezing Derek's shoulder.

''When are you coming back?'' Derek considers him.

''I don't know. I don't know if I ever will. I can't stay and watch him fall in love with somebody else.'' Scott's expression is full of sympathy, and he gives Derek a soft smile. Derek coughs and stands. ''I better go before I miss my flight.'' Scott stands before him, and Derek offers him a hand to shake. Scott opens his arms and closes them around Derek, tugging him close.

''I love you, man.'' Derek smiles and sighs.

''Yeah.'' He releases Scott, who tugs a little tighter before letting go. He bends over to Chloe who gives him a gummy smile and stares at him with her big, bright eyes. ''See ya later, Sweetheart,'' flicks her nose and she giggles, and Derek's chest tightens. He stands straight and turns to Allison, who has her arms open and ready for a hug. He smiles as she wraps her arms around her.

They haven't always seen eye to eye, but they've learned to love each other over the years and they've put their differences aside. Forgive and forget, right?. He kisses her cheek and holds her close, breathes her in for what might possibly be for the last time. He lets go and she wipes her eyes. ''Sorry, I'm just, horrible at goodbyes.''

''You get used to them,'' he smiles, wiping the tear from her cheek. She nods and carries the plates over to the table and joins Derek at the doorstep. Derek sighs. ''You'll tell him I said goodbye, right?'' They nod, and he trusts them enough to take their word for it. ''And that I'm sorry for everything, and I love him.'' They nod again. ''Thank you.'' He walks away without another word.

''Have a good one,'' Scott calls after him, and turns and smiles.

''You, too.'' They nod and watch as Derek drives off, before closing the door. Scott takes out his phone and calls Stiles.

::: :::

Stiles slumps back in his car outside Lydia's place, kicks his legs up on the dashboard. He beeps the horn with his foot, before throwing a piece of chocolate into the air and catches it in his mouth. Lydia appears the window, and holds up to fingers mouthing 'two minutes'. He lies back, content. His phone buzzes in his pocket and he kicks his feet out, hitting the radio on and Anna Sun blares through the car.

He flinches, and a memory clouds his vision.

_He's lying on the couch in the loft, splayed out across Derek, his face buried in Derek's chest. The radio is on, and Walk the Moon are playing. He snuggles in tighter, and Derek holds him close. Derek lies flat out on the couch under Stiles, and he's smiling, eyes closed._

_The room is dimly lit, and the light from the moon creeps in the window. There's candles and pizza boxes on the table next to them. Derek takes an arm off Stiles and fishes around on the floor for something without stirring him. Stiles holds up the remote for the CD player._

_''Looking for this?'' he laughs. Derek tries to grab it from him, but Stiles yanks it away, without even opening his eyes. He laughs again. ''I like this song.'' Anna Sun starts playing. Derek hums._

_''The lyrics are reflecting my life right now.'' Stiles elbows him, and looks up, his face serious._

_''I need to ask you something,'' he says, his tone and expression unreadable. Derek silently urges him to continue. ''What do you call a werewolf that's lost?'' he smiles. Derek looks at him, relieved for a reason he can't explain. He doesn't like it when Stiles gets serious._

_''Is it Isaac Lehey?'' Stiles laughs._

_''Ha, ha, Funny Wolf. No, it's a where-wolf,'' he beams. Derek raises a hand, and slaps down on his own face, before he laughs, like, legitimately laughs. At one of Stiles' jokes. No, seriously, he laughed. Stiles smiles at his laughing state and his chest flutters._

_That was the moment he realized he loved Derek._

Stiles steadies himself against the passenger seat of the car, and he flinches again, and his head aches from the rush of vivid memories flashing through his head. He groans in pain, holding his head, pleading for the pain to stop. The pain eases, and he blinks up. He remembers everything.

He remembers his prom night, and he remembers Christmas, and he remembers the morning of his eighteenth birthday. He remembers everything. He remembers Derek. Derek. He startles as his phone begins buzzing and his ringtone fills air of the now silent car. His head hurts again, and he sees flashes of himself alone in the woods.

It's the day of the fight. He's walking, with a bit of a limp as he holds his hand over the bleeding scratch on his side. His chest is heaving and he's struggling to get air into his lungs. He thinks he's having a panic attack. He slumps over against a tree, trying to fight the dizziness engulfing his light-headed form. He steadies himself, wiping the tears from his cheeks.

He hears a noise, like a twig breaking under the pressure of a foot, and he snaps his head back. His phone rings at his feet, and the music causes him to jump. He falls back, and all he remembers after that is darkness and a faint voice around him.

He shakes his head, pushing the memory away, and he rips his phone out of his pocket, frantically hitting the answer button so he doesn't miss another call. It's Scott.

''S'up?,'' he greets into the phone.

''Stiles!'' Scott calls, in a voice so loud he pulls the phone away from his ear for some relief. He sighs and composes himself.

''Great, now I'm deaf.''

''Stiles, we don't have time for this. It's Derek.'' Stiles perks up.

''What about Derek?'' His heart is stuttering in his chest.

''He's heading to the airport Stiles. He's leaving because he thinks you don't love him anymore.'' Stiles stills, wheels turning in his head. ''Stiles, are you there? Can you-'' Stiles hangs up the phone, and swallows past a dry lump in his throat. He calmly starts the car, and rubs his eyes.

''Fuck!'' he shouts, slamming on the pedal, reversing out of the driveway with a screech. He storms down the road, without giving Lydia a second thought. He changes gear as he pulls onto the freeway, dodging traffic left and right as he pushes well past the speed limit. His jeep is shaking at the speed, she wasn't built for this sort of thing.

He takes his phone back out, dials Derek's number. ''Hey.''

''Derek, don't get-''

''This is Derek, I can't come to the phone right now but I'll get back to you as s-''

''Dammit!'' he punches the steering wheel and the horn sounds, and groans impatiently as he sends Derek a text. ' _Don't get on that plane._ ' He receives no reply within the next few minutes, which only spurs him on to drive faster, and he discards his phone behind him, it's no use to him now. At this rate he's gonna get himself arrested.

He hears his phone buzzing in the seat behind him. ''God dammit,'' he mutters to himself. He turns back, extending his arm out to grab it, but not quite able to reach it. He leans forward further, moving the steering wheel as he does. He reaches it in time to swerve out of the way of an oncoming car heading straight for him.

''Hello?''

''Stiles, where are you?'' Lydia asks from the other end.

''Listen, Lydia, I can't talk now but I'll explain everything later, okay?'' Lydia remains silent for a moment, like she knows what this means. She's a smart girl, like really,  _really_ smart, so she probably gets it.

''Okay,'' she sighs, but it's breathy and hardly even a whisper. She hangs up the phone without another word. As soon as he puts the phone down on the passenger seat, it starts ringing again. He hopes it's Derek. It's Scott.

''What?'' he snaps.

''Dude, you better be busting your ass right now trying to get to that airport in time to stop him.'' Something like fondness inside of him eases his frustration.

''I'm on the freeway now.''

''What are you going to say to him?'' Stiles thinks to himself, not exactly sure himself. ''Stiles, you better not be going there to break his heart again.''

''I'm not. I'm not, I remember, Scott. I remember him now.'' He'd beam with joy if it wasn't for their current situation.

''You remember him. So, you two are getting back together?'' He can hear Scott smiling.

''I don't know, providing he'll still have me. I hurt him, Dude. A lot.''

''Of course he'll still have you,'' Scott laughs, like it's the most obvious thing he's ever said. ''Oh, my God, Dude, this is so cool!''

''I'm hanging up now,'' he deadpans. Scott laughs.

''Good luck, nerd.''

''Thanks,'' he hangs up the phone. There are so many butterflies in his stomach right now he wants to puke. But he can puke later, he has more important stuff to do now. He skids into the airport, parking his jeep in any old spot because, he doesn't give a shit whether his car gets towed. He races across to the entrance, scanning the sign for the gate where the next flight to New York is leaving.

''17b,'' he mutters to himself, before running to buy his ticket. ''I need a ticket for the next flight to New York,'' because, he might not find him in time and he might need to go there to bring him back home where he belongs. The woman types into her computer, far too slowly in Stiles' opinion. He hurries her along, and she looks to be growing as impatient with him as he already is with her.

She hands him the ticket and he snatches it from her hand, throwing all the money in his wallet at her. He runs through the airport, trying Derek's phone again. It cuts to voice mail and Stiles sighs as he gets stuck behind an overweight man trying to unbuckle his belt. He waits his turn, not bothering to put his shoes and belt back on once he passes through the detector.

He gets stuck behind a family on the escalator, because, you know, people are fucking retards who don't understand that they are there to help you get up quicker, they are not there, however, for you to stop in the middle of them and let it carry you along, blocking everyone else's path. He takes off again, because he's in an airport and he has to make at least one pun.

He steps out of the way of people coming in the other direction, narrowly avoiding smashing into and elderly woman. He twists around a man and lifts his legs over an oncoming little girl. He makes it to the gate, and everybody is standing from their seats to board. And that's when he spots him in the crowd.

Derek is standing from his seat, a folded newspaper under his arm and small back pack on his back. He pats his pockets and makes sure he has everything. He takes his phone out, and looks taken aback by the amount of missed calls and texts he must have. He drops everything and his newspaper flitters to the ground.

Stiles' phone buzzes in his pocket. Derek holds the phone to his ear, and stills at the sound of that stupid indie song Stiles is always humming. He turns slowly, and he stops all movement once his eyes lock with Stiles'. Stiles gives him a weak smile, full of guilt and tiredness and regret. Derek doesn't look sympathetic at all, he doesn't look anything. He's just staring.

''You left without saying goodbye,'' Stiles starts, walking towards him. ''To be honest it kinda hurt.'' Derek's brow furrows.

''I thought you would have wanted it that way.'' Stiles actually looks visibly hurt as he continues approaching him. Derek tenses.

''Ouch,'' he fists his shirt over his heart. That stupid fucking shirt that clings to Stiles in all the right places- and shut your fucking mouth Derek is not staring. His expression darkens, and he looks almost saddened that Derek thought he would want it that way. ''I didn't,'' he speaks in a serious tone.

''So you thought you would just wave me off?'' he laughs stubbornly, but by God, he loves this stubborn little shit.

''I thought I'd come and try and talk you out of making this stupid decision.'' Derek looks away, looks at the gate where most of the people have now passed through and are boarding the plane.

''Don't waste your breath,'' he mutters through slightly gritted teeth.

''Now, don't be like that,'' he implores, holding a hand over his heart again.

''What do you want, Stiles?'' His face is serious, and there's a hint of anger, or maybe frustration, Stiles can't really tell which one, possibly both.

''I want you to come home,'' he says flatly, honestly, cutting to the chase.

''What, so I can step aside and watch you fall in love with somebody else?'' Stiles remains silent and Derek scoffs, picking up his stuff once again as the last few people pass the gate. ''I have a flight to catch so goodbye, Stiles.'' He walks away, leaving Stiles to stutter over his words and panic.

''I love you,'' he calls after him, with a shaky voice. Derek stills and turns around. He glances back at the gate where the last person is now preparing to board.

''Excuse me?''

''I love you, Derek.'' Derek stares at him, eyes wide and on the verge of tears. ''I remember you, Derek. I remember everything. I love you.'' Derek discards his stuff on the floor and grabs Stiles, pressing their lips together in one brutal, long awaited kiss. One of the attendants at the gate calls for Derek and he breaks the kiss momentarily, looking back at her.

''Are you boarding?'' she questions him, smiling.

''No,'' he mutters hoarsely, before bringing Stiles in for another kiss, deeper this time. The kiss breaks and Derek rests his forehead against Stiles'.

''I love you, too,'' he pants, cupping Stiles face in his hands. Stiles wraps his arms around him, and they stand there for the longest time, just looking at each other, caching their breath back.

''Does this mean I have to help you unpack?,'' Derek laughs, planting another chaste kiss on his lips.

''Yes,'' he grins, and Stiles groans.

''Does this mean I have to pack my stuff back up again and then unpack it at your place?''

''Only if you want to,'' Derek says, hopeful that he will want to.

''I want to,'' he groans again.

''Then it's  _our_  place.'' Stiles looks up at him, smiling like a fool.

''I also hate you,'' he informs him.

''Oh, yeah, why's that?'' Derek smiles fondly, still cupping Stiles face.

''For making me speed across the freeway to the airport, catch you at the last second and declare my love for you. You've made me into a fucking cliché and I hope you're happy about it.'' Derek wraps an arm over Stiles shoulder and he guides Stiles away.

''I'm very happy right now,'' he beams.

''God, I could just eat you up, you're just too adorable, Sugar Plum,'' he tightens his hold around Derek's waist, burying his face in Derek's chest.

''Deal,'' he grins wolfishly.

::: :::

**Epilogue**

Derek pushes the shopping cart down the aisle, inspecting different colored doughnuts, tempting him. Stiles approaches, looking mighty pleased with himself as he presents Derek with a box wrapped in Christmas paper.

''What's this?'' Derek takes it from him, practically glowing.

''I remembered where I hid your Christmas present,'' he smiles.

''And you thought you should give it to me in the middle of a supermarket?'' Stiles nods innocently. ''Where'd you find it?'' Stiles moves directly in front of him, and looks at Derek right in the eye.

''In the cupboard. Where we keep the dish cloths. Because I knew you'd never look in there. Ever. For any reason. Like drying the dishes. Get where I'm going with this?'' he raises his eyebrows at him.

''What can I say, you're a domestic goddess.'' Stiles pokes him in the ribs and Derek laughs loudly. ''Okay, I'll do the dishes for a week. Promise,'' he lies, shredding the paper off the small black box that fits perfectly in his palm. He puts two and two together and looks across at Stiles, who is casually observing the double chocolate filled doughnuts.

Derek's breath hitches and he opens the box. Two silver rings gleam under the glow of the fluorescent lights above his head. He looks at Stiles again, who is now dumping the packet of doughnuts into the cart, before smiling at Derek. ''Oh, yeah,'' he points Derek. ''We're getting married by the way,'' before he trodds off in the other direction.

''Hey, where are ya going?'' Derek calls after him.

''We're all outta fruit loops,'' he turns, a shit eating grin etched into his face.

''My answer's yes, just so you know.''

''Of course it's yes,'' he shouts back, not turning around. ''Who wouldn't want to marry me?'' Derek watches him walk away with nothing but utter fondness and love. His stomach is flipping continuously. He smiles brightly to himself. Stiles comes back around the corner holding his fruit loops. ''Oh, and our first dance is to Walk the Moon.''

''Of course it is, Honey,'' he humors him. Their first dance will  _not_  be to one of those stupid fucking indie songs. Shut up he  _can_  stop humming them in his head.

He can.

Okay, maybe not.

**THE END**

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, it's much appreciated! :D Please leave a comment and let me know what you think :) x


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